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[attr="class","itsover"] "Gwrtheyrn!", the name could be heard in the distance, spoken with the voice of a child no older than ten years old, "It's here, it's here!".
As he hammered nails into wood, the motions stopped as the sound waves of his name entered his ears. Looking at the distance - in the direction where, further, further away, was Pale Rock and the Train Station - he swept the sweat dropping of his foreahead with the hand he was holding the tool with, his left one. It also allowed protection from the high sun of the noon, avoiding it blinding his eyes and allowing him to see who it was that was calling for him. However, it wasn't like he needed it - despite only being back for some weeks now, he had already memorized the faces and voices of every single one of the poor folk living in the Fishing Hamlet.
Aie kommar!, he shouted back at Ruban in their dialect, the words meaning "I'm coming" in the common tongue.
Then, before standing up, he turned his attention to the man working besides him:
I'll be back in some minute, Lars.
They were working on the old hut of an elderly couple who had lived in that enpoverished shore all their lifes. The previous night a strong storm made parts of the weak structure fell apart and Gwrtheyrn wanted to make sure that the two women wouldn't have to spend even one night without the one thing that belonged to them.
Stading up, his long air started to flow with the wind, Beggar's Wail dangling alongside it on his neck. A dirty flannel longsleve, weathered baggy pants and damaged boots were all that he had to wear, but only that was enough: if it didn't show the horrors hiding in his body, it fit. He walked in the direction of Ruban and Ruban sprinted in his.
"The box arrived!", his eyes shined while he spoke.
That's good. Go on and play with your friends, me and the others will take care of it, he said gently, using his right hand to scrub the kid's hair and sending him off.
"Knútr! This is heavier than what we thought it would be! How much coin did you spend on this?" the two man that had been carrying the big cargo box on their shoulders from the Train Station yelled, using the tongue of the poor.
Too much, Gwrtheyrn thought as he recounted the amount of trouble he had to maneuver in order to steal that gold and silver.
Mengr nat, mengr nat!, he replied, meaning "Not much, not much".
The people there needed proper medical care and the leftovers of shops weren't enough for that. In his childhood, Gwrtheyrn often saw what a simple cough could mean in that area - now that he was back, he didn't want to see the same cycle repeating itself. So he stole. He stole and he stole to the point where a good pouch of coin was adquired, enough to buy a box full of simple yet essential healing herbs and products from Fumehat. Those should last for some time, he hoped.
Let's what is inside, he said and they agreed.
Putting the box on the sand, the other two males - the brothers Vin and Van, both considerably older than Gwrtheyrn - watched as the young adult began using the back side of his hammer to pry the wooden object open. In the meanwhile, more people began approaching them, all of them curious to look in person at the herbs that they had never once seen.
There was no way anyone could've guessed what waited inside the squared object.
Post by Riina de Bastille on Nov 18, 2019 5:49:59 GMT
WORD COUNT: 724
TAGGED:
TAGGED: Fluffy
The light was hurting the girls eyes. The first thing that the others would see, as the top of the box was pried open, was a pair of raven black cat ears, barely poking outside the box. As noises were made, the ears twitched, turning in the direction of the noise. It quickly became apparent to the unfortunate kitten stuck inside the box, that there was noise all around her. In short, she was surrounded. Cautiously, fingers wrapped over the edge of the box, as she slowly rose to peek outside. A gathering of people, all staring at her, seemingly shocked and in surprise. The ears immediately leaned backwards, tugging against her head. Her eyes grew hostile rapidly, as she bared her fang in a soft hiss. It was a very animalistic way of letting everyone know that approaching would get them clawed, bitten, kicked, punched or worse. Even so, it was clear that the kitten was groggy, unable to really focus on anything, unable to gather her balance. Being transported in a box for over sixteen hours had had some serious side effects. That, plus the alcohol she had consumed before going to bed yesterday. Hungover and travel sick would make any kitten hostile. "...Where am I. Where have you taken me. What is this supposed to be? Is this a bloody kidnapping?!" Riina asked, her voice brimming with hostile intent. From the little exchange it should've been very clear that she herself had had nothing to do with the little switcheroo. In fact, it seemed like she had a reason to suspect that she had been kidnapped. Granted, she knew plenty of individuals that would benefit from kidnapping her, so the paranoia might've been justified. At least from her perspective. Though, with a simple glance anyone there could tell. Hungry, famished, hungover, shaken. Riina at this point in time was significantly more bark than bite.
Yesterday, the girl had been out drinking. The money from a couple of interesting deals had been more than enough to fill her stomach with both food and cheap ale. In a very intoxicated state, the girl had returned to the box which she slept in. It was an old shipping box, kept clean and whole. It had been filled with hay, while the top had been furbished with some cloth to prevent rain from easily penetrating. It was warm enough during the colder winter months. It also kept her relatively safe. That is, right until a little scheme had been made.
...See, scammers are well known in Fumehat. So swapping a box for another one, which they had confirmed contained only hay, had been nothing short of a bargain. Hammering the top of the box down with long nails, the herbs had effectively been stolen. In their place, a box full of hay would be delivered. The only problem was, that inbetween checking the box for content and actually pulling off the exchange, Riina had gotten home, drunk and tired, curling up in her warm box of hay for a good nights sleep. The hammering of the box hadn't awoken her, as she had been out cold. It wasn't until many hours later, that the bumping passage of being on a train had awoken the girl. Confused, she had attempted to get the top of the box off, to no avail. Then she had panicked, calling for help, hammering on the box, kicking, flailing. Yet a crate with content was difficult to break apart, especially when it had recently been fastened with fresh nails. Nauseus, confused, scared, the girl had had no choice but to simply wait. At the very least she had figured out that she was on a train of some sort. So someone would likely unbox her within a reasonable amount of hours. Hopefully...
Now that it had finally happened, what awaited her outside the box, was nothing like what she had expected. The girl wasn't even within Fumehat anymore. Normally, she would've taken the time to take in her surroundings, but for now, the yellow feline eyes were stuck on one particular person. The one who had opened the box. The one who was closest to her current position. The one who she was accusing of being the groups leader, and the one orchestrating this kidnapping. Riina was hostile, and understandably so.
[attr="class","itsover"] He had been foolish. Foolish beyond comprehension. The years he had spent away - some of them being brought into almost death, some them being recovered into almost life - had brought many changes and, unfortunetly, one of them was a lapse of memory in remembering that Fumehat (that hellish place) was filled with as many strugglers as The Wharf. Duly noted. Wouldn't happen again. If anything, it was just additional information to keep in the back of his head, for he knew: more than weapons, more than Vels, more than anything, really, the most valuable thing one can have is knowledge. Of places, of people, of things - the person who has the most knowledge can bring forth what those who rely on what is outside of themselves cannot.
Although, more than concerned about the lack of the herbs he had payed with the coin he stole, he was then concerned about what came in its place. Young looking, long black hair, golden eyes and showing what seemed like characteristics of an Afflicted - not that such mattered to him or the rest of the crowd that much. The poor's don't have the time to spend on trivial things as hating the one that his besides them. What they hate, however, are those who steal the little they have and, the truth of the matter was, the girl was there, the herbs were not.
Things in a tongue that the girl wouldn't understand began being whispered into the crowd - not regarding her status of Emes, but how she probably stole from the box. Of course the girl herself wouldn't be able to know this, which would most likely turn the situation even worse.
Gwrtheyrn understood this. Unlike the rest of the poor, he saw beyond what was in front of his eyes, not even being fazed by the surprise package's attitude and remaining with his stoic compusure throughout her words and noises. It would be stupid for the girl to have stolen anything just to still come to them. Not only that, but her reaction - and hostility, and awful smell of alcohol - was proof enough of her honesty about being as lost in the situation as Gwrtheyrn and the rest of the folk.
Behind the box, Vin and Van - the two who had carried the load from the station - spoke after the girl accused them of kidnapping.
"Should we strike her?", they asked in their tongue, probably just agravatting the whole miscommunication scenario... and leaving more work for Gwrtheyrn to try and fix up.
He spoke almost as soon as they finished, his hands visible and raised in the air to show the cat in the box that he had no ill intentions towards her.
Everyone, let's speak the common tongue. She's clearly has confused as us. Vin, Van, please step away, he told them, and, reluctantly, they complied.
Gwrtheyrn looked down at the girl, his hands still in sight of her eyes and showing signs of potential agression. He addressed her, his focus being on showing her that no one was there to harm her - not only was it the truth, but the last thing he wanted was to upset someone who had a Vel.
You are in the Fishing Hamlet of The Wharf. I had ordered a box of herbs from Fumehat and, instead, well, instead I got you. It's an obvious mix-up, not a kidnapping. Neither me or the people in here are in position to do you any harm, he said, pointing to the fact that, if Riina took a look at the people surrounding them, she'd see how they were all poor, all weak, all scared underneath the cold expressions that the world gave them.
Waiting for her reply, the crowd looked, now in silence. All of them curious to see if someone had cut the cat's tongue or, if this time, the cat was getting ready to cut the tongue of them all. That was something that Gwrtheyrn wouldn't possibly allow.
Post by Riina de Bastille on Nov 20, 2019 16:59:04 GMT
WORD COUNT: 724
TAGGED:
TAGGED: Fluffy
As those around her simply watched, the girl felt increasingly cornered. They spoke in a tone and language which she did not understand. That, however, was mostly unneccessary. The shocked expressions, the hushed tones as if they were afraid that she'd hear. How two of them approached her slightly, cautiously, as if they were afraid that she would lash out. There was tension and blame in the air. Figuring out that they were placing dislike, distrust and dismay on the young female wasn't exactly a difficult puzzle to connect the dots for. The real troubling thing was, that something about this whole situation seemed off. Unplanned. Which only frustrated the raven haired feline further, because the disconnect between what was being said, what was happening and what she was expecting continued to grow. Turning her head, the girl's ears constantly twitched towards whoever spoke. Disorienting her, she was slowly building up in stress and anxiety, hissing at Vin & Van when they got too close for her comfort. Any step, just a single step further, and she would absolutely lash out to protect herself. The two men seemed just as prepared for her lashing out as she herself was. That's when his voice cut through the crowd, silencing the murmurs. The two names were called out, and they were asked to step back. Riina was glaring daggers at them as they moved back. Some part of her kept alerting her that those two were raring for an opportunity to strike. Fighters, henchmen, mercenaries or just the paperboys. Getting the job done kind of type. Riina was not quite sure what they were, but she assumed they were the muscle of this operation, whether it be workforce or violence. Lapdogs of some kind. Impatient, callous, inexperienced.
Clearly cornered and agitated to a breaking point, Riina's attention turned towards the man that spoke. Shivers went down her spine, the information overload was intense. Being so incredibly alert was draining the girl rapidly, and it was clear to see. Riina shot a glare to the two guys, Vin & Van, when the man mentioned being in no position to harm her. What a load of crap. If they wanted to harm her, it'd be the easiest thing in the world with this many people. The girl's eyes flashed neon yellow, giving off the vibe that she was, in fact, more animalistic than human. The tail swished from side to side, her ears standing at attention. Riina looked around at a glance, giving a quick inspection to everyone in the room. After she had blinked, the glow appeared to be gone. "The others might not be in a position to.. but you carry a finely crafted weapon... and an interesting necklace." Riina then, quietly, rose up from her box. Climbing over the edge, she dropped down onto the floor. The girl was wearing rags. Literal pieces of cloth sewn together as best as she could. Each hole had been patched, and there were almost more patches than original clothes on her attire. Her toes were bare, and they gave off that iconic sound of skin against stone. It made her shiver. Stone was so much colder than wood. Or at least it felt that way. The swamp felt like a warmer place. In her action, it was also obvious at a glance that she had nothing on her. No pockets, nothing to hide in her clothes. All that Riina was, was a kitten in rags. A seriously malnourished and tiny kitten.
"...I don't know much about herbs and plants. Can't say I had anything to do with this nonsensical crap either..." Looking from side to side, the crowd was really starting to piss her off. Looking at her like she was some circus animal. "..I'd really appreciate not being surrounded. Could you back the fuck up a bit? I'm not an animal." It was an odd disparity. One moment, Riina carried about her the mannerisms of someone well mannered and dignified. The next, it was as if she remembered that she had to be tough and self sufficient. Trying to claim a little space for herself in this chaotic scenario. Once having made it clear that she wasn't comfortable with the situation, her gaze returned to the man she presumed the leader. "..." The girl had had something to say, yet she couldn't quite formulate it. Looking away, then back to him, then away again. It seemed his surrendering attitude was making it difficult for Riina to go on the offensive. Afterall, if she met no hostility, there wasn't really anywhere to direct her anger. Now she just felt cornered and frightened, instead of frustrated and angry. "...What the fuck am I meant to do now.. The Wharf..."
[attr="class","itsover"] He was interested to see how the little feline would react to his words and, overall, to the entire situation: would the animal instinct of showing her claws and fangs prevail or had this street cat already learned the importance of choosing the fights worth fighting? Gwrtheyrn's feelings - that stemmed from what his eyes observed, eyes that, for better or worse, had always allowed him to make sense of reality to the detail - were that the answer to the previous question was a complex one. Young and visibly poor, every breath she took was proof that she had, at least, a decent grasp of what it took to survive. However, and at the same time, her temper looked as one that made her often take many steps back, most likely rather painful ones due to the added bonus of her Vel.
After intimidating Vin and Van - which, even if their hardened faces wouldn't totally show, scared them, as they never had dealt with any threat like... that one - the girl turned back to Gwrtheyrn who, like always, was looking directly at her. It was this that allowed him to see the glow in the girl's eyes appear and then quickly disappear, yet it had definetely been there. After that, she spoke.
Intriguing, he thought to himself.
The first part of the sentence had no real value. It was just a child being overly cautious while ignoring the real situation: if Gwrtheyrn saw her as a threat and wanted the people to attack her, she wouldn't have got a single word out. No, that had no importance to him at all. And neither had the comment about the sword, really: Warduul is one of the best (if not the best) blacksmith alive for a reason. The old man would be bragging at this point if he was there, that was for sure. The important was her mention of his necklace. What did she mean when her choice of adjective for Beggar's Wail was "interesting"? Why did she chose to mention it in last place or even mention it at all? Why mention it together with the sword, as if they both belonged to the same category? Was it connected to the glow in her eyes? If so, what actually was it? An ability to sense Vanta? Eyes that can perceive objects or people who have more than ordinary power? Did it allow her to have more knowledge about what she sees than what her words might've indicated?
Information truly is the most important thing, and so one has always got to be on the look out. Right then, the cat's worth to him grew exponentially, even if such growth was only a potential one.
Nice eyes, he chose the two words carefully, indicanting deliberately to Riina that he had noticed the glow and leaving the sentence open enough to her interpretation so that she could believe that Gwrtheyrn figured out much more than just the hypothesises in his brain.
When she rose up, no one really batted an eye or gasped in surprise: poverty was that common so, at the end of the day, she was just another one. Gwrtheyrn's own clothing was almost was bad as hers, with the only difference being the delicate care he had to make sure that there were no holes that could reveal his body and, also, that he had gloves to cover his hands. So, the people just continued to look, just as they had been until then...
... and that was exactly why the girl was continuing on being angry. Annoying, Gwrtheyrn thought. Yet, in his compusure, nothing was shown. Instead, the quite opposite. Speaking in the common tongue so that Riina could understand, he spoke to the crowd.
She's like us, he stated alluding to her striking appearance of deep poverty, There's no need for another fuss like last week, he added, remembering them of the previous week's encounter with the one name Kristoffer, So let's get back into things, shall we? Vin, Van, get some people to go with both of you to Gray Harbour and look for some scraps. Yldra, go see if you can listen to something interesting in the usual places, but be careful. Everyone else that is free, make small groups and go help Lars finish the work on Mathilda's and Krista's hut: we want them to be able to sleep there this night.
Some nods. Some simple words of agreement. Just like that, the crowd surrounding them had left. They knew Gwrtheyrn would be able to take care of this. They respected him. More important than that, they trusted him.
The Wharf... Growing up in the middle of these stones and sands, I often looked at the sea and thought I was at the end of the world. Can only imagine what someone from other city feels like upon seeing this side of the Pale Rock, he said, looking at the waves crashing the shore and in reply to the girls voiced frustration.
He then looked at her, again directly into her eyes. No hostility, just a man that always treats people like this: when he is directly talking to them, they are the only thing that matters.
There are ways in which you can go back to the other cities without coin. We don't do it often, but we know how to. If you want, I'm willing to help you out.
His intentions were honest and such showed. However, just like Gwrtheyrn himself, things aren't always that simple.
The teenager in front of him could be a potential horse to put money on. Gwrtheyrn wanted to make sure if this horse was worth the risk of the bet or better if left to some other idiot to get fooled by.
Post by Riina de Bastille on Nov 24, 2019 13:28:57 GMT
WORD COUNT: 1004
TAGGED:
TAGGED: Fluffy
It was at his reply that the girl felt an intense cold running down her back. It was an answer that could mean so many different things. Everything from having figured out her ability, to simply realizing that her eyes had something to do with the additional information she had, or simply he had noticed that she had a light tint to them. Heck, it could even just be that he had noticed how feline her eyes were compared to a regular humans and wanted to make her feel comfortable. Though, the last one, was a bit of a stretch. If he had wanted to make her feel comfortable, he was more than capable of weaving words together, as he had already made apparent. It meant that he had chosen this vagueness for another reason. The cold shiver, upon realizing this, spread throughout her body like an echo. The amber feline eyes watched him intently. Like he had been a venomous snake, waiting to sink his envenomed teeth into the female feline. It would seem a bit like the cat's tongue had been caught, but while working on the situation within her mind, her body reacted naturally. Playing for the cast wasn't something she was unfamiliar with. "Thanks. I suppose? Odd compliment to give." Raising an eyebrow, the general expression that she had indicated the turmoil in his head. Riina couldn't figure out what he was on about. Hopefully it translated well into The eyes really have nothing to do with it. Afterall, she might've let on to there being something accurate about his statement, if she hadn't been so cautious.
When the others began returning to their duties, giving Riina some space, it was clearly having her less on edge. Less eyes watching her, less tension in the room. The girl's breathing reflected this more relaxed stance. The expression, the direction her tail pointed, now gaining a light bend at the tip, indicating curiosity over fear. Riina's ears slowly rising to stand straight rather than being tucked backwards against her head. It also meant that the man in front of her became less imposing. So Riina's attention began wandering elsewhere. At the mention that there had been trouble with another, Riina broke the silence in a more comfortable way than prior. Without people watching her, she wasn't feeling the same kind of pressure, and thus spoke more openly. "We've had a fair share of troublemakers in Fumehat too. Especially redheads.. Though I may be a bit of a troublemaker myself." The last was more a joke than an actual fact. It was merely that, in the past few weeks, the only ones who had caused her any trouble seemed to be redheads to some extent. Even the bucket of bolts had a red stripe across his face... The other comments, in regards to what everyone else was assigned to do. It was more information than she knew what to do with... and so far, all these nameless faces were just that. Nameless faces.
"It's my first time coming here.. I suppose to me it feels a little dangerous. Like I am trapped in a corner of the world with nowhere to go except where I came from. Straight back to anything I'd have attempted to leave behind." There was a short hint of an emotional moment, as Riina seemed to remember things from the past. Though, when the girl realized what she was doing, she quickly continued to speak. Her tone shifted somewhat, yet mostly remained the same. The smile on her lips made it obvious though. This had all been turned into a joke, rather than being serious. "Like those money I owe for an ale. Or that burrito I ate last week. God, I am never going back to that place. Horrible service, too." Then, the next thing that he spoke, was where it finally got interesting.
Facing him entirely, the girl placed a hand on her hip. It had once again become intellectual. Without even blinking an eye, Riina asked a simple question. "If I am one like you, couldn't you let me stay here?" The girl wasn't really looking at him when she asked that question. In essence, she was merely trying to figure him out. With how he spoke, with the words he chose, he had made it sound like getting her to leave first would be a priority. Whether he could then take advantage of it or not... Either case, Riina was the type to not listen to what she was being told. Always testing boundaries and pushing the envelope. Stepping over to the box that she had arrived in, she tugged at it a little. Regardless of where she was going, she wanted this box to remain with her. It had been her home for quite a few years at this point. It had served her well, and would hopefully continue to do so... Clearing her throat, she then added;
"At least for a few days. Travelling for sixteen hours inside a small box with a hangover was rough enough.." Riina stretched, as several small cracks were heard from ehr back. Letting out a content sigh, she already felt a little better. "Also incredibly hungry..." It was evidenced with how sporadic she was. Nothing seemed to keep her attention for too long. It was like a predator looking for prey. Riina was starving... "...I could also really use a bathroom." So now that the immediate question of her safety had been taken care off, came food and drink. In many ways, Riina was simply a survivor. The gaze that she gave to her accomodating host spoke a thousand words. Essentially she was asking him either to assist her, or point her in a direction where she could sate her needs... preferably starting with the bathroom. "...If you have nothing to spare, just watching over my home would be good enough. I'm not going to ask for more."
[attr="class","itsover"] He curved his lips, making a soft, small yet noticeable smile. It was his only answer to the girl's reply that was accompanied with an elevated eyebrow to indicate confusion or unawareness. Gwrtheyrn didn't need much more - words lose meaning when they are spoken all the time. Her reaction was quick, even if for a brief second it could've seemed that the cat had, indeed, lost its tongue. Could his guesses be all wrong? Could it really just be coincidental? Maybe... but maybe not. And it's in the "maybe nots" that life is won.
"Maybe one day I'll be free. Maybe one day I'll leave this cave. Maybe one I'll see her again".
Gwrtheyrn was a betting man, and as such he knew that nothing can be put aside without definite proof. For now, the cat was free, even if her file in the young man's mind still wasn't closed.
In a more clear scenario, it at least seemed that the decision to have everyone move out of the area was a wise one, even if obvious. By the stranger's expressions, she was feeling more confortable and less threaten, her body rising and eyes wandering around curiously. That was good - fights with no mean are worthless. She even began speaking more openly, something that lead her to make a mention of red-heads making a fuss in Fumehat.
Could it be?, Gwrtheyrn thought to himself, obviously recalling the encounter with Kristoffer.
Something that didn't really mattered, however. If it was, indeed, Kristoffer, his travels and lost way of life were perceptible in their meeting, so this information had no real importance to the male. As for the confession that the cat herself could be a troublemaker?
You don't say, he thought ironically, clearly having already thought this the moment her agressive tone had come minutes before.
She then continued on talking, just as Gwrtheyrn continued on listening. She looked like a kid and talked like one: many threats, no bite and once you send them a hook they start getting all confortable and sharing their self-centered life stories. Her attempt to cover up the more emotional words, the casual jokes about stealing and eating... Part of Gwrtheyrn felt pity, but another one felt sick.
Then she got closer.
Then she asked a question.
Her eyes weren't on him but, if they were, there wouldn't be much to new to see: unemotional, almost heartless, his quasi-angelical face continued to gaze at the outsider. His head, however, told a different story.
This punk..., the words echoed and echoed in his mind.
As her lips continued to mouth requests and requests, he wasn't angry: he just couldn't believe at how much of a bad person this one was appearing to be. Food? Bathrooms? She looked at everyone that had been just there - did she really think they had any of that to spare? And, if she didn't, was she just that much of an arrogant being to not care about such things at all?
Disgusting, was another word that echoed.
Once she finished her speech, Gwrtheyrn was quick to reply. His posture and tone the same as before, he spoke.
We don't have proper bathrooms, he announced, We do our natural needs in that shed, he said, pointing with his thumb behind him, Me and a few others rotate and every morning we do night soil work, dumping everything at the closer parts of the Outlands. Some of them did the work a few hours ago, so it should be relatively clean by now.
It was a dirty and dangerous work, but it needed to be done. Thankfully, the Outlands, on occasion, seem to be on the side of humankind: every time they returned to the dumping spot, the feces and urine they dumped the morning before weren't there anymore, a likely sign of a beast whose diet is composed of such nauseating material. The beast kept on being fed and the Fishing Hamlet remained clean. A fair deal.
He continued.
As for meals, we don't have extras so if you wish to eat we'll have to go to the Promenade to either steal coin or food. I can accompany you, since I know the ins and outs of the city. We'll take care of where you'll sleep later during the night.
It was not a "yes" nor a "no". It was much more. It was a speech that implied that a refusal of her wish hadn't even crossed Gwrtheyrn's mind. If she wished to go away, he'd show her how; if she wished to stay, he'd allow it. There was nothing to gain in denying her stupid, ungrateful wishes. So he went along with it as if he was in total peace with it.
A boy does what he wants, but a man does what he must, he remembered himself.
Although, by now, the cat should've probably realized: in The Wharf you can't expect being given anything, you have to work for it.
Post by Riina de Bastille on Dec 3, 2019 5:51:39 GMT
WORD COUNT: 708
TAGGED:
TAGGED: Fluffy
The raven haired maiden had done her best attempt to open up a little. Speak a little about her feelings, about her past, about where she came from. Instead of receiving any kind of comment or attempt of reaching the other way, the white maned protector of justice and beauty kept on with the same blank stare. The same blank expression. The shift in Riina was almost as immediate, as her attitude once again changed. Turning colder, less interested, less emotional. At this point, Riina was almost completely certain in her assessment. This white maned protector would not be gaining any favors from her. Nor would he be gaining any additional respect. Having tested the waters, having attempted a few different angles, the responses that the girl received almost seemed the same. Ultimately, this man seemed to not care for the situation Riina found herself. At least not further than he could potentially throw her. The real kicker came when he completely flipped her words on their head. Riina had essentially been completely content with surviving on her own in this unknown place. All that the girl had dared actually as for, was that he showed some understanding for her situation, keeping the little shipping crate in a safe place. So that Riina knew where she could return for the night, avoiding sleeping outside in the open. Especially this close to the oceans, where the breezes were colder and penetrated through flesh and into bone. Narrowing her eyes at him, the girl crossed her arms. No, this was unacceptable. This was not the circumstances in which she wanted to rely on his goodwill, nor was it a situation where she felt comfortable owing him a favor. Not someone like this. Not someone whom she couldn't quite tell which corner he belonged in.
"In that case, I will go to the market. If my box is gone when I return, I'll assume you found a use for it. Legally, I suppose it is yours now." With that, Riina offered him a short bow. Informal, uncaring, without any weight. Then she took a moment to orientate herself. Looking for the largest concentration of buildings. The place that seemed the most pretentious. Without failure, the high rock up there, perched over the ocean itself, ought to give her a good idea of where to go next. So, the girl, with nothing to her name but the rags she walked around in, took a few long strides towards what she assumed would be her destination. A little groggy on her feet, clearly, or perhaps just struggling with walking around in the sand, she seemed like she'd fall over any moment. In addition, this seemed to frustrate her somewhat as she took a few steps to the left, then a few steps to the right. Panting tiredly, she was already sweating.
Grasping at her stomach, the sharp pain of starvation began spreading through her body now that the adrenaline of waking up, surrounded, in an unknown place, got filtered out of her bloodstream. Strength was leaving her, the panting was getting worse. All Riina had managed to do was take a solid fifteen steps. "Well, shit.." Then, as could've rather easily be predicted, Riina failed to carry her own weight. Sliding on the sand, she ended up on her knees. Leaning back, her butt rested on her heels, her toes digging into the sand. Arms were hanging down her sides as painful cramps went through her body. The girl was, even by the poor's standards, tiny. It was likely, given enough time and effort, that she'd reach her destination. Though, there was also a risk that if Gwrtheyrn left her to her own devices, that she'd tire herself out somewhere on the way to the markets, starving to death if no kind passerby assisted. Especially if she somehow ended up going in the wrong direction. Sitting there in silence, she had experienced this world far too many times. Experienced both the wrath and kindness of strangers. For that reason, Riina didn't even try asking Gwrtheyrn for help. Getting disappointed was the last thing she needed for the moment.
[attr="class","itsover"] Is she that much of an absolute idiot?, he asked himself as she finished her words, bowing as if to make a point that Gwrtheyrn couldn't give two cares about.
This cat was more and more becoming what the young man considered the absolute definition of weakness: the pretense that the world surrounds around them, yet not having the will to speak up when this reality crashes on their feet. What did she want from him? A glorious speech about friendship when they have just met a few minutes ago? An empathized discourse that would be just a fake and patronizing speech due to his ignorance about the girl's past? A pat on the back? A rub in between her cat ears?
It was like she was refusing to listen to him. Or that she listened, but painted his words in the canvas she had already locked Gwrtheyrn in.
She asked for a bathroom, he offered one to her. She asked for food, he offered himself to assist her with that. She showed worry about where she'd sleep in, he offered his assistance in a later time since, as it was obvious by her fragile stature, feeding her was the top priority. And what the hell was that conversation about the box? It was the first time she refered to the object as "hers" - whatever that meant - so how was Gwrtheyrn supposed to know it had some type of value, something that was only now easy to figure out due to her shift in tone and choice of words? And, even in this case, he hadn't uttered a single word proclaiming the box to be his anyways.
She made demands to someone who had no obligation to help, but still chose to. And, now, she was acting like a kid because, in her world, this help wasn't enough since he didn't have the ability to read her mind or didn't act like they were old friends or something.
Pathetic, he thought of her.
In her tantrum that could only belong to a child, she was now walking off, choosing to ignore Gwrtheyrn's help, help that she herself requested but decided wasn't given in the way it needed to be.
Proud, even in frailty.
She was slowly walking in the direction of Pale Rock, clearly too feeble to actually reach her destination. And, even if she did, she'd have no idea how to orientate herself in a city she, apparently, had little knowledge of.
Then she fell on her knees. Then Gwrtheyrn saw it.
~~
"Knútr! Knútr!", Zair and Libbert yelled as they ran towards a young Gwrtheyrn lying on the floor of that exact place, crying painfully.
W-Why is it like this?, he sobbed as the words came out, punching the rocks and sands in frustration as he did so, W-W-Why do we suffer for things others have for granted?!
The other kids stared at their best friend. He had been beaten up by some Enforcers, most likely for having been caught stealing food. Then they dumped him there, like they did with any other object they considered trash.
"Here, let us h-", as Zair extend his hand, Gwrtheyrn slapped it away.
No!, he yelled, N-Not like that!
Slowly, he proceeded to slowly get up as both Libbert and Zair watched.
We walk together, b-but... But we stand up alone!
The eyes of the other two widen up as Gwrtheyrn began walking back to the hut where he lived with his foster parents.
B-Because... Because we have to set an example to each other! That... That no matter what we will stand up!
"Gwrtheyrn...", Libbert let out in a low voice.
But they nodded and, catching up, walked side-by-side with him. Even if he was bleeding, even if he was limping, he'd walk by himself, strenghtened only by the fact he has his friends near him.
~~
Pride... Such a stupid thing that us humans have, he thought.
He sighed. Then, he started walking towards the girl while placing his right hand on one of the pockets in his weathered pants. From it, he took out a piece of bread - it was supposed to be his afternoon meal.
It didn't take long for him to reach her left side. Him standing up, her on her knees. Extending his right arm below and towards her, he was giving her the bread.
Five bronze coins, he said as his eyes looked ahead in the direction of Pale Rock, Five bronze coins is the price of bread here in The Wharf. I'll be expecting that exact amount someday in the future.
If she was a proud and mistrusting one, so be it. If she didn't want selfless help out of pity, Gwrtheyrn would treat her as he treated himself: no hand outs, only responsibilities. It was now up to her to take the fresh piece of bread out of his hand or not. However, while she decided, Gwrtheyrn would add.
It's unfair, isn't it? Suffering for what others take for granted..., he said with a voice of someone that had been going through that since birth and moved his face to her direction, looking now at the girl still on her knees, Gwrtheyrn. That's my name. Gwrtheyrn Knútr Medrawt from the Fishing Hamlet of The Wharf.
He finished, being the first to decide announcing their name. She was rude, arrogant, selfish, proud, self-centered...
Yet she was just like any other person there, a victim of the world.
Post by Riina de Bastille on Dec 18, 2019 18:27:24 GMT
WORD COUNT: 675
TAGGED:
TAGGED: Fluffy
The raven haired female, sitting with her knees in the sand of the beach at the wharf, closed her eyes quietly. For someone starving, for someone so devoid of energy, the girl seemed oddly focussed. It was a situation that she had been in before. A situation which, although dire, wasn't anything new. This wasn't enough to kill her by any stretch of the imagination, even if it would likely cost a few pounds of her weight. As the girl was sitting there, realizing her own weakness and helplessness, steps approached her from behind. The stalwart magnificent prince of the slums. Perhaps he was there to pour more of his neverending life advice and philosophy down her throat like a discount vodka. Perhaps he was there to simply look at her, gloating and smirking at her stupidity. Groaning softly to herself, just low enough that he'd struggle hearing, she tilted her head to the side to look at him. A bread was held towards her in an outstretched arm, as he began speaking. For the first time since they had met, it seemed like he actually spoke her language. An exchange, an understanding. Without a hint of hesitation, the girl stretched out her own arm, carefully received the bread, before beginning to munch on it. The bread was a little dry, probably the bread of yesterday if she was to take a guess. Still, the blissfull feeling of her stomach ceasing its contortions and cramps caused a sudden stillness to befall the feline. As the man spoke, her amber eyes never once left him.
In this moment, he had managed to catch a mild interest from her. In this moment, he had managed to earn a little of her respect. Something that was apparent in not only her demeanor, but in her response to his greeting as well. Mere moments ago, the girl would've likely been rude and unapproachable when it came to a greeting. At this point, however, Gwrtheyrn had managed to penetrate the outer layer of her facade. "I don't know that it is. Those who are wealthy now typically had families that did important work generations in the past. Either that, or they made their own fortunes from a more modest starting point. Invalidating the past is not a sentiment I agree with. So it cannot really be that unfair." Riina then took another big bite out of the bread, struggling a little getting through the tougher surface, before she continued, doing her best not to rudely talk with her mouth stuffed. "..What does suck is all the effort being put into keeping individuals like myself from making my own fortune. It's so difficult finding a job where they'd pay me the same as they would've, if I didn't have these.." Riina pointed to her cat ears, they twitched slightly atop of her head, as her tail was swishing from side to side almost playfully. "Not many options open for people like us."
Finishing the bread, the girl even licked her fingers clean, before getting to her feet, still slightly groggy and a little unstable. Then, in a uncommonly polite gesture, she stuck her hand out towards him, holding her palm steady and open, making it impossible for her to have attempted any tricks. Not that Gwrtheyrn seemed like someone who'd have anything to steal that Riina would be interested in. Perhaps except his odd necklace and fine weapon... "My name is Riina. I'm not sure I have a last name, most simply call me the Kitten." The girl explained, with a soft hint of a smile errupting on her lips. "I'll be back here, where you unloaded the crate, with the fee plus interest, before I leave The Wharf to go home. You have my word." For a kitten that seemed so rude, it was odd to have this statement from her. It was as if she, despite clearly being a cheat and fine with stealing or otherwise breaking the law for a bit of profit, believed her word sacred. Never make a promise you cannot keep.
[attr="class","itsover"] She now spoke in a different manner than before. Once more, Gwrtheyrn had been able to read the situation and make the correct call, the one that lead to the most desirable outcome. An experienced street cat doesn't need to find a sweet, warm home - it needs to be treated as habit dictated, food thrown at it not out of good will, but out of pure practicality.
It is up to the cat to choose whom it follows, for in its world there can be no space for errors.
The girl reacted to his comments like she was simply talking with someone she knew, not throwing a childish fit at a stranger like before. Eating the bread as her façade became more and more clear.
Maybe this cat could turn out to be one that needed a home. Gwrtheyrn would keep such in his mind, weighting the pros and cons of such case.
As she spoke her final sentence and before she got up on her feet, the young man from the Fishing Hamlet replied with a small smile, his tone as calm as ever.
As I said: it is unfair.
Whether it was in a big or small quantity, it didn't matter. It would always be unfair, just like it had always been until then.
Up and standing next to him, she extended him her hand as she revealed her name. Riina. Putting aside his distate of physical contact, he shook her hand for some brief seconds. Due to the gloves he always wore, it would be impossible for the cat to suspect the atroucious nature of his skin and flesh... or what was left of it.
And I shall keep your box safe. I promise that, Riina.
And so she went. And so he stayed.
A small promise had been made. A promise both needed to keep.
Lots of eyes on the inner workings of Gwrtheyrn's mind and how he thinks. I like that. In some ways he's complex, in others fairly simple. An interesting character, to be sure.
As for Riina... how in the fuck do you get so drunk you get transported via box for 16 hours. Bruh that's a sequel to Hangover right there.
