Griev is an author sometimes

Hi hello I'm a vtuber who writes stories here and sometimes I do music. 日本語勉強しまーす🙇‍♂️

[grievousdearu]

Fugitive of Fugitives

Three weeks.

I’ve been running from them for three weeks.

I didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. All Walker and Shiia know is that one day I just… didn’t come back.

Maybe they had the opportunity to live-- tell the Collective operatives sent after me that they had no idea where I went, that they didn’t even know who I worked for.

But they were probably killed when they couldn’t provide information on me.

That’s what I can’t stand to think about; the fact that they were probably killed because of simply being associated with me.

It would hardly be the first time, and I know for a fact it will keep happening. That’s just a reality of my life.

Nobody close to me gets to live happily. Wherever I go, death and destruction will follow soon after.

I almost want to embrace that fact; stop letting people get close. Maybe then I’ll stop getting people killed.

Maybe it will just get more killed.

I can’t say.

Aching hunger gnaws at my stomach as it once more reminds me it’s been almost a full day since I last ate.

I decide to walk up closer to the cliff’s edge, which lets me look over the pale green moorlands to the east, bathing in the starlight from thousands of stars in the night that’s soon to end.

I thought about heading west- chartering a ship and traveling out to the Alran Isles, try to hide with the privateers- but I barely have enough money to feed myself, let alone buy passage across an entire sea.

Not to mention that the Collective has considerable wealth and could just as easily buy those privateers out to kill me.

So instead, if I kept headed south, maybe I could reach Amnest? I have no idea what the presence of the Collective is that far south- if they even have that kind of reach. All I know is that I’m not safe as long as I’m within at least three hundred kilometers of Helmholtz.

Maybe I’ll never be safe. Maybe I can reach the deserts as far east as Ririn and the Collective will still be able to find me.

These people… this organization… they aren’t just a group of adventurers who have to follow laws… they’re criminals who own several nobles outright- just in the Helmholtz region alone.

How do you hide from that kind of organization? Is it even possible? How long will I be running from them?

Thousands of questions blaze through my mind, but I can’t find a reasonable answer to a single one of them. They all just gather in the back of my mind, questioning whether I should just make it easier on myself and turn myself in.

Maybe if I did that, they’d find it in themselves to kill me quickly.

Who knows?

The section of cliffside I’m standing on has a steep enough ledge for me to take a seat with my legs dangling over the moors.

It feels peaceful here. No glowing city torchlights in the distance, no roads with people crossing from one region to another… just open, deserted moors.

If I hadn’t known that the moors were full of terrifying monsters that roamed during the day, I might have been tempted to go wander there for a while before continuing my trek down south. But with daybreak mere hours away, I knew it would most likely end poorly, and with me being left dead on the grass, with not a single person to find me to bury my body.

Maybe if I manage to shake the Collective off my trail, I can come back up here, maybe settle down in an area of the moors. Surely there’d have to be some way of keeping the monsters away, right? This place must’ve been inhabited at some point, so how did they do it?

I lean to my left and rest against the tree that stands there, overlooking the moorlands.

“Is this something you saw happening, mama? Did you see me screwing up what you’d given to me in such a spectacular way?”

I ask that question absent-mindedly, out loud. Openly asking if she’d foreseen the life I’d come to live; a life rooted in failure.

Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. Maybe she saw something in me that I have yet to see.

I always hated it when she and everyone else called me a “prodigy”. I never felt like that label was appropriate for someone like me.

Especially someone born a Katari.

Everyone was always quick to assume I was a failure, but the second I showed any measure of skill, it always changed their mind; suddenly I was “worth something” to them.

Even now, people assume I’m inherently evil, or that I’m going to do something bad, just because I’m a Katari. It’s not as open, but I know it’s still there.

People like Walter, Shiia, the Collective; they almost let me believe that stigma was starting to fade, but whenever I returned to Helmholtz, that reality always came back to slap me in the face.

It was probably never going to leave, and I was always going to be treated as “evil” at face value.

I can’t help but feel despaired by that fact. That I wasn’t ever going to be fully rid of that stigma, and that one girl alone wasn’t going to change it in her lifetime.

I once held strong, determined hope that I could, but I lost that hope when I grew old enough to realize how the world operates.

Maybe it’ll happen. I just… don’t think I’ll live to see that day.

One last time, I look up at the night sky, the light of the stars, and the twin moons beaming down to the ground.

“Maybe it wouldn’t happen in my lifetime… but maybe another.”

That prospect… it leaves me wondering if it was right to have that dream. To have a child of my own and to hope that once they grew old enough to know what life was like… maybe they’d be able to live it without the stigma of the Katari life that I’ve lived.

Would it even be right for me to have a child? What if I’d failed in my quest and they grew up in a world that hated them just as much as the world I’d grown up in hated me? Would I be able to live with the guilt of knowingly doing that to another living being?

What even is the point of wondering all this? Why should I contemplate the life of someone who will come after me if I can’t even say for certain I’ll live that long to find out?

I can’t help but ask myself more and more questions as I feel myself falling asleep against the tree I’d been leaning on for a while now.

Finally, I let myself fall unconscious as I let the worries of the future leave my mind.

I’ll cross that bridge, should I ever live to come to it.

[grievousdearu]

Promises of the Future

“Natalia, sweetheart… what are you doing?” Mama asks me from the doorway.

“I’m reading!” I say back to her without looking at her, focusing on the book instead.

“I didn’t teach you how to read yet…?”

“I taught myself!”

Mama gently laughs at what I said and walks over to me.

“Then what’s this say?” She asks as she points to a part of the book where I’m opened to.

“It says ‘you should stay at home with me more’!”

She looks upset at what I said once I say it.

Did I say something bad?

Mama puts her hand on my head and closes the book before she sits down next to me, then pulls me into a hug.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so much these past months, sweetie, I really am…”

“Then why can’t you tell me where you go?”

I feel her tighten her hug on me as I ask that question. I think from that alone, she still can’t tell me why.

I think I know that she’ll never be able to tell me, I just… don’t know what else to do.

“One day you’ll understand. And I hope when that day comes, you won’t be angry with me for what I’m doing now.”

“Why would I be angry?”

“I don’t know… just know that it hurts me to be as secretive about this to you; that I can’t be more of a mama to you.”

“But you are being a mama to me. No matter what you do, you will always be mama.”

I feel a small drop on my face, but I try to ignore it. I feel like she would be angry if I told her I felt it.

She lets out a big sigh before she gets up from the sofa and takes the book from my lap.

“Alright, how about this: next week, I’ll start teaching you some basic magic. Would you want to try that?”

“Yeah!” I stand up next to her.

“Good! While I’m out this weekend, I’ll get some things ready, and I’ll even teach you to read a little while we’re at it!”

I like it when mama gets to spend time with me. It doesn’t often get to be a lot of time, but it makes me happy.

Maybe when she gets done with whatever she is doing, we’ll get to be able to move out of Helmholtz and go somewhere nicer. I never liked it here; the people are usually mean and unfriendly.

But that’s probably just because of me.

“What would you rather learn how to do, make a light, move lights, or be able to blow on things really hard?”

“Hmm… What can I do if I learn to blow on things?”

“Well, you can do lots of things with that. You can move really light things, you can blow out candles or torches, the possibilities are so big!”

“Can you use it to push yourself off the ground and fly?”

Mama laughs at my question, but I’m not sure if what I said was funny…

“I’m sure you could find some way to use it that way, yeah. You just have to put some thought in. Once you grow up, I’m sure you’ll test the limits of magic in ways we’ve never seen before!”

“Really?!”

“I know you will. You’re a smart girl, Natalia. You’re going to do great things, I’m sure of it.”

Mama turns around to place the book back on the shelf, and I think I heard her say something, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

“So when can I start doing really big magic?”

“With as quickly as you pick it up, I’m sure you’ll be rivaling the best wizards before you’re my age!” She says as she turns back around and kneels next to me.

“That-… Mama that’s a long time away!”

“I know it is, sweetie, but magic takes a long time to learn. Even people who study it for lifetimes can struggle to learn really advanced things. That’s just how it is.”

“What can I learn to do before I turn your age, then?”

“It’s hard to say what you’ll be capable of at that point. You may well be able of surpassing me then, I don’t know. You’re special.”

“Why am I special?”

“Because I see what you’re capable of. You may not yet, but I know you’re going to do great things when you get older.”

“What kinds of things?”

“You will change people in ways I never knew could happen.”

“But I haven’t seen it happen?...”

“No, but I have, Natalia.”

“So… what do I do until then?”

“Learn how to be a good girl, learn how to do all types of things. I’m confident that no matter what, you can do anything you set out to do. Never give up. And I’ll be here behind you as much as I can for as long as I can.”

“O-okay…”

“Good,” she says as she starts rubbing my head.

She stands back up, picks me up, and sets me back on the sofa.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever said it enough to you… but I love you, Natalia. I’m proud of you for being a strong young girl.”

“Thank you, mama.”

And one last time, she hugs me.

[grievousdearu]

No Bully Zone

The sound of rain falling into the creek leaves the bridge area shrouded in a white noise that lets me feel at ease- more so than the white noise of the crowd in the markets outside the house.

Mama was once again out somewhere doing something, so I’d been left with money to buy some bread for lunch.

The last crumbs fall to the ground and dissolve away in the mud of the creekbank under the bridge as I finish off my bread roll.

That boy found me the other day, but I don’t know where else to go so I wound up coming back here again anyways.

I often wonder if I found somewhere else that was this secluded if I’d go to it instead of here. But where can you find somewhere like this in the market district of Helmholtz? Most places will have people going through it all day.

Maybe now that I’ve eaten, I can go back and try reading that book about magic that’s on the bookshelf in the bedroom at home. Mama bought it last week for something, but she hasn’t opened it since. Would she get mad if I looked at it?

I let out a deep sigh, then lean back against the stone foundation of the bridge, thinking about what to do.

Eventually, I decided to go back home and look around there for something to do.

I take about five steps up the creek bank before I see a couple of other kids walk past me. Hurriedly, I try to get by them, but just as I’m about to pass, I feel a tug at my hood, and it’s removed from my head before I have a chance to stop it.

“Freak!”

I knew it.

I try to pull up my hood again, but the kids try to forcefully remove the entire cloak from my body, which is tied around my neck. Their pulling starts to choke me, and I reach for the knot to untie it, but I can’t undo it because of the pressure being applied.

“What, are you gonna cry now? Can freaks like you even cry?” The largest boy taunts me as he pulls on my cloak.

They were pulling on my hood even harder now, leaving me gasping for air. I try to call out to someone for help, but I can’t bring myself to- not only because I can’t breathe, but because I know nobody will help anyways.

“Who-!?”

The sound of a sack hitting the ground rings out behind me, and suddenly I feel the tugging at my hood stop.

“What’s your problem!? Get lost! You aren’t involved in this!” One of the other kids yells out.

“And you aren’t either, not anymore.” A fourth kid says. However… that voice sounds familiar, but I struggle to place who it belongs to.

“What are you planning to do about it, then?!” The first, largest boy says.

“Make you leave.”

I can’t bring myself to turn around. So instead, I simply cower on the ground, waiting for everything to be over. I don’t want to be involved. I don’t want anyone to yell anymore.

“Go ahead and try!”

I hear the sound of a fist hitting flesh echo out slightly. But for some reason, it sounded… solid?

“The hell are you?!?”

A full-blown fight then breaks out, from what I can tell based on sound alone. Though, somehow something sounded distinctly one-sided.

I felt fear wash over me, not just for myself now, but for the boy who I think was trying to defend me.

A few seconds pass, with the sound of people beating each other filling my ears, soon followed by the crying of children.

I duck my head down and try to get as close to the ground as possible, getting so close that some mud gets on my nose.

Eventually, I hear the sound of someone running.

The fighting had stopped.

Except now I heard two more sets of running feet. I had a feeling I knew what just happened, but I was still too scared to turn around to confirm for myself.

I’d left it too late to run myself, now. Now all I could do was sit here and wait for that boy to do whatever it was he was going to do, and I had no way to stop it from happening.

A tap on my back sends chills down my entire body, and I prepare myself.

“Are you okay?” I hear him say.

It’s too hard to say if the ground in front of my face was wet because of the rain, or if it was because of my tears, and I had too many emotions coursing through my body to know why or if I was crying.

The rain seemed like it’d stopped some time while the boy was waiting for my response, making the whole event feel like it’d lasted hours.

After a few seconds passed and I felt no further contact on my body, I slowly turned my head around to face the one boy who’d decided to fight three others for no reason.

His face had a few cuts and red spots, but otherwise, he seemed mostly okay.

“Wh-why d-did you do that?!” Instead of screaming at him, I can only raise my voice to a loud questioning one.

“Because they were bullying you. I don’t like bullies.”

How… can this boy say that with a straight face?...

Is it a lie? I can’t tell.

All I know is that he’d beaten off three other kids, one who was larger than him, and he’d won.

Seemingly, at least.

If what he just said is true…

I think this is quite possibly the dumbest boy I have ever seen.

I don’t know how long I’d been staring at him, but he presents a smile at me and reaches out his hand.

“Need help up?”

How long was my mouth slightly open at him? Was his stupidity really that powerful?

Everything I have ever seen in my life— it goes against what this boy does.

No, that’s not right, rather… everything this boy does defies logic. It goes against everything I’ve learned here.

I just…

I can’t understand what he’s doing, why he’s doing it, or if he even understands what he’s doing at all.

Should I be afraid of him if he realizes what it is he’s doing?

Would he even care if he found out?

“Suit yourself, then,” he says to me.

Apparently, I’d been lost in thought trying to reason out his actions for so long, so much time had passed he’d taken my lack of response as a denial.

I slowly clamber to my feet and wipe my face of the mud and water that was on it.

I suddenly remember that the bullies had been tugging at my hood and cloak, at which I hastily check over it for damage, but I find none other than some mud on the fringes.

“Do you like it here or something?” He asks me yet another question.

“I-I don’t… know…”

“It’s the second time I’ve seen you here.”

I fall silent at his response. I still don’t know how to feel about him, so if he realized that this was my safe space, I will have lost it for certain.

“Why are you always here by yourself?”

“I d-don’t know…”

“Why not?”

“I j-just don’t k-know okay?!”

I try to rush off away from him, but I stop after just a few steps. I feel like he’s so dense he wouldn’t know, so I can’t help but try to warn him.

“Don’t do this again, for your safety.”

“Why?”

I wordlessly walk off without answering his question and start going back home.

“Maybe I’ll see you again sometime, then!” I hear him yell at me from a distance.

Something bad is going to happen to him because of me. I know it.

Or maybe it will be himself…

[grievousdearu]

The Downward Trend

“No! You complete and utter dumbass!”

My words bring the dining hall to a standstill, with everyone quieting down and listening to what I have to say.

“What part of any of this looks like it’s safe to store in the attic of an Inn?!” I once again yell out.

“They’re just mushrooms, Miss MacAllister!” The bald, one-eyed adventurer says to me.

“Yes they’re mushrooms, but do you know what kind of mushrooms these are?”

“Uhh…” he spouts, “…the… green kind…?”

I stare at him intently with a face of astoundment. My eye twitches slightly before I plant my face in the palm of my hand.

“I might as well have gone and gotten them myself at this rate… just… go throw those out in the pond-- and wash your hands very vigorously afterward. I’ll even pay for an extra bar just for you to keep.” ‘Gods know you need it,’ I want to add, but it would be pointless to try speaking sense to this guy.

The mushroom the adventurer in question brought in was- most likely- an immature bone fungus. Highly toxic when fully grown and tends to release toxic gasses during its maturation and growth.

I should have known that the less-than-average-looking adventurers wouldn’t have known what a trillimac looks like, but even still, they should have figured out that something that looks toxic green might actually be toxic.

I was really hoping to avoid having to go out into the forest out west, but it seems like I’m going to be left with no choice at this rate.

The Inn hasn’t seen a whole lot of foot traffic the past week or so, so I can’t relegate my mindless work to mindless adventurers like I usually do.

Most of the clientele over the past couple of months has been… slightly denser in makeup than typical. I can’t help but wonder if the recent surge of disappearances in the Misted Forests has anything to do with the recent uptick in “new adventurers”.

Either way, the people pay Walker all the same; I just happen to be able to help them recoup some of their payments for rooms every now and then.

I should probably make ready to head out for a foraging session sometime on the weekend, in that case. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by Severfront while I’m out in that direction either; pick up some more alchemical supplies.

“Ah, Natalia,” Walker stops me before I return to my room, “A letter arrived from your employers.”

He hands me the sealed envelope, then I return up the staircase and to my room to find out what it is the Collective needs from me.

I take out the letter opener from my desk drawer, slide it underneath the wax seal, and hastily remove the contents. From the seal cipher, it was something fairly important.

“…noticing a downward trend in my capabilities since the incident in the Fragrach Plains…?” I say the letter’s content out loud under my breath.

What are they talking about? I’ve only failed to complete two out of the twelve contracts I’ve received since suffering heat stroke- it’s only been a year and a half since then, how is that ‘a downward trend’?

The full letter, once unciphered read:

Wraith Natalia MacAllister,

Recent reports of your contract work have indicated a downward trend in quality and capability since the incident in the Fragrach Plains. If your future contract quality fails to correct itself, you will be ordered to immediately return to Helmholtz and be placed under supervised duty until the trend is set right and you qualify to return to unadvised fieldwork. We hold your potential in great regard both as the daughter of Advisor Vallith MacAllister and as a proven member of our Collective. However, we will not allow this opinion to create room for your work to degrade in this capacity.

It takes me a moment to process the information I’ve just read.

After burning the letter and the envelope by summoning flame in my hand, I decide to mentally review how they could see my work as “degrading in quality”, but the only occasions that come to mind were when I failed to assassinate one of the counts from Amphale and when I failed to forge documents in Bocombria, but the count was alerted to the scheme, and Amphale was also alerted to our scheme so unless--

No, there can be absolutely no way.

They cannot possibly believe that I’m to blame for the lack of secrecy in those plots, right?

That would make no sense, why would I knowingly go to an assignment when I knew that I would be discovered?

I suffered from heat stroke because the mission in Amphale was botched without me knowing.

“How could I possibly…?”

I run countless scenarios in my head, but none of them make me understand the situation I find myself in currently. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I struggle to process what’s going on.

"Something the matter, Natalia?” Walker calls out to me as he cracks the door open to my room.

“Oh, it’s… nothing, Walker. It’s just… my job sent me a confusing message, that’s it.”

“Well, I know you’re typically quite secretive about your work, but my door is always open, should you need a new job.”

“Thanks, Walker, really, but this job isn’t really the kind you can just… walk away from.”

“I see. I hope it all works out for you, then.”

Hesitantly, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in my room to my thoughts.

I just hope the Collective never brings him into the situation if it were to escalate for whatever reason… I couldn’t live with myself if someone innocent got thrown into all this mess simply for being associated with me.

Not again.

[grievousdearu]

In The Throws of Death

It’s so hot.

It is so unbearably hot that my skin has ceased its ability to sweat.

For the last few hundred meters, I’ve debated swallowing the last of my shame and removing the last of my clothes to get even just the slightest bit of relief from this god-forsaken heat.

The plains in this region have never been this unbelievably hot before. Why now?

I don’t know how far I’ve walked anymore, and the more I try to think about it, the more I feel like giving up and letting myself fall victim to the heat.

I can’t even cast a spell that would make me feel better, let alone rid me of the symptoms of heat stroke, I don’t know magic of that caliber- not yet.

I drank the last of my water about six kilometers back, and I see no signs of civilization or so much as a puddle of water on the ground anywhere in sight for who knows how far. It’s just me, and dead, grassy plains as far as the eye can see.

Part of me wished it was going to be a death by frostbite rather than a death by heat stroke. At least if you died in the cold, at some point you’d be numb to the pain.

But no, with heat death, you feel every moment of despair; the gnawing of thirst in your mouth and throat, the burning of the air as it enters your lungs, and the growing weakness in your muscles as they decay in real-time.

I take a moment to stop, but I realize too late that the second I did so, it was a mistake.

I instantly collapse onto the ground, leaving myself in a contorted blob of despair and agony in the middle of nowhere, lying in the grass of the Fragrach plains.

For a moment, I think that if I pray to one of the gods, maybe I’ll at least be saved from further pain until I really do die, but the energy to even think of a prayer is too much to spare before my eyelids begin to shut.

Ah, so this is it, isn’t it?

This is where I die.

Not in a jail cell, not in my own home, not in the stocks, but in a field with no burial.

I feel like if my body had the fluids to spare, I would probably be crying right now.

But nothing comes. I only lay in a puddle of my own misery as I wait to die.

A shadow crosses my now fading field of view, followed by a vague prodding sensation in my left hip.

Probably a vulture, just getting a bit too early to dinner.

A figure that I can’t make out then stands in front of me, towering over me, but it’s too hazy to make out any significant features other than that it’s vaguely humanoid.

I try to laugh, thinking that the world was mocking me just one last time, but all that escapes my mouth is a dry, desperate groan.

Then my eyelids shut, and my consciousness fades.

I wondered if I did truly die back there- if I experienced the feeling of my life leaving my body.

Maybe I’d have been better off, too.

I’d experienced the feeling of regaining consciousness after being knocked out unwillingly before- more times than I’d care to admit- but this time felt different.

It wasn’t a slow fade of feeling over the course of a few minutes, no, this time I knew the time in-between moments of reality I was aware of was the passing of days. I don’t know how many specifically, but I knew that it had been at least a week since I’d been picked up from that gods-forsaken grasslands.

The first time I was capable of my first movement, it was turning my head.

I looked around to try to gather information on my surroundings, but I still wasn’t able to make out clear shapes or objects. Everything was blurred, and it was spinning.

That seemed to have alerted the people who were tending to me- whoever they were- as they rushed to give my head support.

I think I counted two days after that- before I was able to truly grasp the reality of my situation.

I’d been touch-and-go, in and out of what felt like a coma for a few weeks.

But I knew for a certainty that I’d been saved from the plains. I was now in a building, surrounded by a group of people who were tending to me as my consciousness came and went. I could make out the occasional distinct figures, but I couldn’t see faces- that sense was still yet to come.

I finally come-to in an established state of consciousness for the first time since I thought I’d died in the plains.

For the first time, I was finally able to completely open my eyes. I was able to hear again- and not just tinnitus either- it was audible, distinct sounds.

“She’s awake again,” I hear one of the people say.

“Conscious or awake?” Another asks.

“Conscious, I think.”

I try to move my arm to feel my head, but I can barely feel it, let alone move it.

“Definitely conscious, now.”

‘Where am I?’ I try to ask, but my throat is unable to fully produce my voice, so all that comes out is a vague ‘where?’ in an indistinct whisper.

“The Logan Hall, a roadside inn about two kilometers from where you collapsed,” the man beside me then says.

“You were incredibly lucky, I’d say. Wandering Cleric saw you and picked you up, gave you the healing he was capable of performing, then left you in our care.”

I turn my head to look at the figure the man’s voice is coming from and try to utter my thanks, but once again, my vocal cords fail me.

“The chances are you won’t be able to regain your movement for another couple of days at the minimum- but rest assured, you’ll be safe as long as you’re with us. For now, I think it’s best you keep getting rest.”

I can’t help but wonder what kind of people I’ve been left with, but if a Cleric thought they were trustworthy, I decide I’m probably going to be fine for now.

Gods forbid it was a grave cleric, though…

Three days passed since I regained steady consciousness, in which I’ve regained the ability to move my body, but I’m still too weak to walk on my own or carry more than a bowl of soup.

“Your body must be very resilient to be able to recoup as quickly as you have. Most common folk would’ve likely died before they even got found, but you…”

“I have… a nasty habit of not being able to die,” I respond with a raspy, grumbly voice.

“Forgive me, but due to your condition, we’ve been unable to know your name. Now that you’re capable, I should introduce myself,” the man walking with me starts out, “I’m Walker Logan, this is my inn. I run it myself, with the assistance of my wife.”

“I’m… Natalia MacAllister.”

“Well, Miss MacAllister, I believe you have quite the story to tell us about how you wound up in the middle of the Fragrach Plains without a horse during a record-breaking heat wave.”

“Ah, I suppose you would be wondering about that…” Well, I suppose it’s time to think of a story. I can’t exactly tell them that I was working a job for the Collective.

“Maybe after I’ve rested from physical I’ll explain.”

“Of course,” he says. “Still, to be able to walk- even simply assisted walking- just three weeks after suffering such a severe and near-fatal case of heat stroke, I can’t help but be impressed.”

“Three weeks, huh?... I suppose I’ve collected quite a debt from imposing on your inn for so long?”

“Of course not, Miss MacAllister. I would rather invoke the monetary loss from hosting someone in your condition over letting them to their fate if they can’t pay.”

“Really? That’s not something you often hear out this close to Helmholtz.”

“Unfortunate as it is, it’s quite common to see people out this direction hoping to get away from that accursed city.”

“Accursed?”

“Ah, yes, we’ve had more than one run-in with ‘city officials’ who come to collect tax, when we don’t belong to the courtship of any of the local lords. The Logan Hall exists as somewhat of an exclave independent of the local lordship.”

“So how exactly did you manage such a wonderful little privilege?”

“Well, actually, this was my father’s Inn before it was mine, but he was able to secure a deal with Duke Marias himself as thanks for hosting his daughter whilst she was in hiding from the thugs over in Severfront. Thus, the special privileges.”

“Quite the little tale of adventure, it seems.”

Walker then guides me to the bed where I’ve been staying most of my time, where he then helps me sit down.

“Oh yes, my father was quite the bold man. It’s just a shame I probably will never bring the kind of name for the Inn as he did.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I’m not particularly sharp-tongued nor am I very capable with a sword.”

“You don’t need either. If you’ve got the wits to back it up, you can get out of most situations. Speaking from experience, of course.”

“Unfortunately, the times we live in require at least the ability to hold your own in a conversation. I tend to get walked over all the time, so instead, I decided to keep my wits about me and lay low here at the Inn.”

“I’m sure in either case, the people who stop by here- myself included, are thankful to have such an honest man behind the counter.”

“Your words flatter me, truly, Miss MacAllister. Until you are capable of returning to Helmholtz; this room is typically reserved for my family who visits here, but it is yours to call home until then.”

“I appreciate your generosisty, Mister Logan. Or, Lord Logan, I suppose, with it being an independent land and whatnot.”

“Oh please, none of that nonsense. Just Walker is fine.”

“Well then, Walker, I hope to return to health as soon as possible so as to not impose on you for longer than necessary.”

Walker then turns to leave the room.

“Ah, one last thing, Miss MacAllister.”

“What is it?”

“A man came asking for you earlier today. Said that you’d missed your ‘window’ and that your co-workers were going to have a stern discussion when you return.”

Shit. Figures the Collective would be on my case about disappearing for three weeks.

Ah, I’m sure they’ve heard about what happened and aren’t too keen on hosting an ill-abled body such as myself themselves until I’ve returned to fighting capabilities.

No matter. I’ll face the consequences of my failure when it comes time to cross that bridge.

But that time isn’t now, so instead, I think I’ll just take it easy here until I can walk on my own, at least.

This place isn’t quite so bad, either. It’s a nice change of pace from the house back in Helmholtz. You’re not awakened by the clammer of people making it to the market first thing every morning, and it would take about half a day’s journey to get here by foot if the Collective wanted to do something about me. The food is quite good for an inn in the middle of nowhere, too.

Yeah.

It’s nice here.

[grievousdearu]

Learning To Play Pt. 1

   I take a deep breath as I look down at my hands, which are bound in a scratchy rope. It reminds me of-

Actually, this brings to mind too many occasions to be specific to just one; now that I think about it.

Unfortunately, in my line of “work”, I tend to find myself under the scrutinous eye of the law more often than I care to admit. But I can’t complain too much. I chose this lifestyle myself years ago; no point in forsaking myself for that choice anymore.

The rattling of wooden wheels against dirt, rock, and gravel, accompanied by the sound of horse hooves helps me try to stay in the moment, and not get lost in thought. Though, sometimes, it feels like getting lost in thought is the only way to make the passage of time on the way to the prison cells seem more bearable.

As that crosses my mind, the sound of city bustle begins to slowly well up and get more audible as we reach the walls of Helmholtz. The sound of that cityscape is one I tend not to forget with as much time as I’ve spent around it.

“No matter where I go, I always manage to find my way back here…” I say to myself under my breath.

Helmholtz. The city where I was born, grew up- and now, find myself en route to prison in.

Again.

The carriage crawls to a halt, and I hear one of the drivers up front speak up.

“Two prisoners,” he says.

The gatekeeper lowers his voice, but he doesn’t know I can still hear him.

“How much is Gaius paying you for these ones?”

“Nothing. Though, I wished he were for the second…”

I scoff at that remark because it’s most likely in reference to me.

“These men are quite loud for trying to be secretive, no?” I hear a raspy, foreign-sounding voice across from me speak up.

“You can hear th-“ I stop my question as I look over to him.

Once I take a look at him, the question answers itself as I see him. He’s a Tabakka, of course he can hear them.

“It is no surprise they have a deal with their boss, this city is known for its corruption,” the man says to me.

“I know all too well about that,” I reply to him, “I was born and raised here.”

“Ah, so you are local; I see, I see. It is no wonder- this city is also known for its beautiful women,” he tells me with a smirk.

“Nice try buddy, but I’m not that easy.”

“It is no guise! Truly, you are a creature of beauty. Where I am from- a small village in Amnest, all women are tall, ugly beasts,” he says, “truly a gods-forsaken wasteland.”

“Hoh, is that so?”

“The women from my village are part of why I became a traveler, you see, much more beautiful women elsewhere, much more ease on the eyes.”

“How ugly are we talking, here?” I ask him, curious about how he feels about his homeland.

He leans over closer to me, and whispers.

“They make me wish to look in the eyes of a Kalle.”

I laugh slightly, and the man joins me.

“So, what is your name, Tabakka?”

“My name is Mar’ii’quas. And your name, mistress?”

“Natalia,” I say as I begin to reach out my hand to shake his, but I’m stopped by the ropes binding me to the seat.

“You are an interesting one, Miss Natalia. Per se, what brings you into the custody of the authorities? You strike me not as the type to become entangled with the law’s long arm.”

“Oh, this and that… just, wrong place wrong time kind of thing,” I say as I try to dance around the question.

“I find myself in this situation because of my unchecked tongue,” he starts explaining his circumstances, “I began flirting with a woman in a city to the north, turns out, she was the wife of a noble here in Helmholtz. The wed man found out about my loose tongue and bribed the guards to bring me here to watch me rot.”

“Sounds like a charming man.”

“You speak truth, Miss Natalia.”

Suddenly, the carriage stops, and the canvas flap-back of the carriage opens.

“Alright you two, out,” one of the armed guards cuts the rope binding me to the seats of the carriage at the tie and begins holding it like a leash.

“There’s that damned cat!” A voice calls out over to us.

“Problem,” Mar’ii’quas says as he tries to hide behind me.

“An acquaintance of yours?” I ask as I begin stepping down from the back of the cart.

“Ah, you see, this man is…”

“The husband?”

“Uh, yes, correct,” he confirms.

“Enough yammering!” The man clad in fine clothing shouts, “Take him to the square before the sight of him makes me vomit!”

The first of the three guards takes the length of rope that binds both Mar’ii’quas and me, then begins leading us through the gate and towards the holding cell; which is located in the centre of the western open district.

“Perchance, fine guardsman,” Mar’ii’quas begins talking to one of the guards, “has my execution been scheduled already?”

“You’ll be happy to know that Madam Hilla has convinced Count Youla to suspend your execution, and instead you will be serving a 20-year sentence,” the guard announces to Mar’ii’quas.

“I would hope to relay my thanks to Madam Hillia, however, I believe it is best for me to interact no further.”

“You catch on quickly, cat.”

“As for the woman…” the guard then turns his head to look at me, “…you will be held until the courts decide what to do with you.”

“Aw, you lot are held up over me that much? I’m flattered, truly.”

“Stay your tongue and you may yet live to see the light of day when you’re released.”

Well, he’s in an awful chipper mood.

“Miss Natalia, I do urge you to consider your words before you speak,” Mar’ii’quas interjects, “I would know a thing or two about what a poorly spoken word may do to a person’s life.”

“Would you look at that, the cat is capable of restraint? Colour me impressed.”

“Well, one might hope that a lesson taught once is enough to teach the principal.”

As we round the last corner before we reach the holding cell, the guard takes a moment to look me over.

I can’t help but feel vaguely disgusted by the manner in which he does so.

“MacAllister, your sentence will likely be decided within the next two weeks, so until then, you are to be placed here,” the guard says as he pushes me into the cell with Mar’ii’quas.

“I do hope they don’t take too long; leaving me in suspense like this really doesn’t do great things for my skin as a woman, you know.”

“I think you’ll have much worse things to worry about before then,” he says with a vague hint of a threat in his voice.

With my hands still bound, I decided to take a seat and rest against the cell wall.

“Miss Natalia reminds me much of myself- when I was still young and spry, of course.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, then.”

“It is a bit of both a compliment and a warning, to be quite frank.”

Mar’ii’quas himself decides to lie down on the floor, after which, we both fall silent.

I can already tell I’m going to be here for a while.

[grievousdearu]

Initiate

Four years.

Mama died four years ago.

She left me in a world that hates me, not because I did something wrong; but because of who- no, what I am.

I was just a mistake born into a life that has no meaning to anything.

A mistake who gets left by the people she loves, and that's all I will ever be: a mistake.

I've been told that for long enough to make it feel true, regardless of if it is. Even the times I've done anything of note, it's been discarded by people simply because I'm a Katari.

People will go on and on about how 'our kind' is a monstrosity, then those same people turn around and enslave others so they don't have to work. The hypocrisy of these people is disgusting, but over my lonely time in society, I've come to recognize- but not accept, mind you- that is simply the way of this world. People who have money or power control the lives of those who don't. I found that out the hard way, many years ago.

And I'm having it reinforced again.

Being an orphaned child on the streets of Helmholtz, you quickly learn how to pickpocket people. If you don't, you'll learn what it feels like to go without food for weeks at a time. Even with the skills of a pickpocket, it wasn't uncommon for you to go days at a time without food.

Every day, I'd go onto the railings looking over the little square I'd effectively claimed as my territory and look for people who seemed like a good mark.

Obviously, there were times when I'd not get down quick enough and they'd already left, they'd have been a bad mark once I got closer to look them over, but I started to learn the characteristics of a good mark from a distance; cleaner folk, obvious traders, ones who weren't local, and so on.

Today I found one that checked a lot of the boxes for a good mark.

Just so happens I picked the wrong one this time.

As I'm regaining my consciousness, I feel myself rocking back and forth getting jostled around like I'm in the middle of a crowd during the Midsummer Festival, and as my hearing returns, I hear the sound of wood and hooves clopping against gravel.

I try to hold my hand to my head to try to ease the throbbing pain I feel, but my hands are stopped by the sudden stoppage caused by the rope my hands are bound by. The sound of the rope creaking grabs the attention of the young, pale man sitting across from me.

"You're finally awake, eh? Sleep well, darlin'?" He says to me.

"The sow is finally awake?" I hear the driver ask, "Good, we should be reaching the Lord's land shortly. He'll be anxiously awaiting his latest prize," he says as he silently laughs.

"You sure picked a bad target, didn't ya?" The one across from me says.

"I don't know what you mean," I calmly say to him.

"Don't bullshit me. We both know you tried to pick my pocket. Hadn't been for the man drivin' for us, you might've gotten away with it. As it stands now, be thankful I paid the officer who looked into it, else you might be rottin' in a prison cell for the next few months."

"From what I can already grasp from the kind of people you are, I'd prefer the cell," I say in response.

The man stands up, then kneels in front of me as he grabs my chin.

"You best drop that 'tude, sweetheart, that kinda garbage will get you nowhere, fast," he tells me in a low, almost whispering threat.

"If we're going nowhere, I'd like to take the next stop," I say as I pull away from him.

"Alright then," he says as he sits back down with a smile, "you'll only make the learnin' process harder on yourself. Not that I'm complainin'."

As we come to a clearing in the forest we've been traveling through for a while, the cart slowly begins to a stop.

"The hell are you stoppin' for, Ed? Still got a few kilometres to go," the younger man says.

No response.

He crawls forward and pokes his head out of the covered section of the wagon.

"Ed, come on, Sir Shamac is expect-"

He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before he visibly goes limp.

At first I was only concerned that the driver had stopped to use the bathroom, but after seeing the man in front of me likely just die, I began to panic.

I closed my eyes, bent over in the wagon seat, and put my hands against my mouth, very slowly. After that, I hear the sounds of whispering.

"...for her?"

I could only make out those words, and what I heard terrified me.

They knew I was here.

Before I had much more of a chance to panic, I heard one of the voices sigh before I hear someone climbing on the cart, then it gets very quiet for what felt far longer than what had actually passed.

"Are you perhaps, miss Natalia MacAllister?" A cloaked head popped into the wagon. His voice was audibly displeased.

My mind started rushing, flooding my thoughts about how I was about to be executed for a petty crime.

Then it suddenly came crashing to a halt when the man stepped into the cart and cut me free.

"If you are, we need to leave, quickly."

I don't know what I was thinking, but all I could do in response to what I'd just seen was nod.

After the two men returned from what I could only assume was 'disposal', they took the reigns of the horse and turned the cart around, after which one of the two came back with me.

"I was instructed to give you this," he says as he holds out a rolled-up piece of parchment.

Everything in my mind is screaming at me not to take it, but I do it anyway.

I open the letter, and the first words I see almost make me cry on the spot.

"Hi, Nattie. It's mama,” it reads.

I want to savour the moment where I felt like I was back in a time in my life when mama was still with me, but I instead keep reading.

If you are reading this letter, you are at least 18 by now and have come to understand most of the things that you need to. I'm sorry I wasn't there to teach you any of it, I really am, but sometimes life just throws you for a loop and things don't go to plan, but I don't have enough paper to write about all that… so let me just get to the point.

I'm sure you've figured out that you inherited some of my magic potentials. You may not have figured out how to use it yet, but I am confident that you know it's there; you're an incredibly intelligent girl. I want to give you the freedom to choose what you want to do with that potential, so I am entrusting your care to the people I worked for most of my life.

They are called the Shadow Collective.

They may seem to be nothing but criminals, but they allow people like us to be successful and viewed as such, not as monsters. I want you to at least be given the opportunity, so I've asked them to allow you into their ranks as an initiate, but I want you to understand that you are free to walk away from this if you so choose. But know that either decision you make, I will not hold it against you. Please think about this as you move forward with your life.

Love,

Mama.

A flow of so many emotions flows over me all at once, not one of them feeling like they’re right. A tiny wet spot appears on the bottom of the parchment, the sight of which makes me realize that I’m crying now.

Slowly I roll up the piece of paper and take a moment to think over what I’ve just been told.

Suddenly, with the arrival of this letter, so many things over the past four years make so much more sense. Why I was allowed to keep our house, why I always got lighter convictions for the crimes I got caught committing…

…all because she was still watching over me.

With that realization, I find in myself a sudden conviction that she knows where I need to be.

I look up and face the man sitting across from me, and for the first time in four years, I make a decision I know is right.

“Where do I start?”

[grievousdearu]

Faultless Mistakes

"...and this is added in slowly…"

I carefully carried the spoonful of blueish liquid over to the large glass container I was mixing potions in and added it to the mixture.

"And that should be the last thing," I triumphantly state as I put the spoon on the table. "Now all that's left to do is-"

I was looking at the glass beaker when I suddenly went wide-eyed in fear and glanced over at the closed container holding the blueish liquid I just used. I was supposed to be making a mild tranquilizer, but instead, I believe I just made a shock-sensitive incendiary liquid due to using the wrong blue liquid.

I was supposed to use an aqueous solution of copper, but I accidentally used aqueous cobalt. Not only was that expensive, but it was volatile if mixed with potash.

"Shit."

That's all I can think of to do right now. Swear, put my hands on my waist, and recognize my mistake.

Or, rather, at least the mistake that I wouldn't have made if someone hadn't used my equipment yesterday to make a special antivenom.

“Oh but Natalia, he's dying, we need your equipment to make this serum!” I say to myself, mockingly mirroring the excuse I was told the day before yesterday.

Bunch of idiots, honestly. If you go out and try to capture a venomous creature, at least have the antivenom before you get bit. Even I know that much common sense.

The reason I blame them is that they just put things close to where they were supposed to be, just enough to be in the wrong place, but not enough for me to notice immediately.

Long story short; their fault, not mine.

"Ok, no, this is fine-- at least it hasn't gone off yet," I say as I hold my hand to my forehead.

"How do I get it out of here…"

It sounds simple enough, but I know it won't be simply because not only am I on the third floor of the inn, but I'd have to go through a small crowd of people who are trying to throw a small victory celebration or whatever in the main hall. I run through all the options in my head, and I think to myself out loud.

"Could always toss it out the window and hope it lands far enough away from the building," I crack a small, devious smirk and chuckle to myself.

Instead, I nod to myself and grab the thin blanket off my bed, which I gently wrap around the bottle, and trot off downstairs to announce my intentions before I bring the bottle.

"Alright everyone, I need you all to clear me a pathway to the door, I'm going to be coming through with a, uh…" I pause briefly to think about what I am going to tell them. I decide to… extend the truth a bit just to make sure I can get a clear path through.

"I er, accidentally made… a toxic liquid… Yeah, a toxic liquid that can cause really nasty burns on your skin if you get it on you… So I need a clear path to get outside," I tell the now silent crowd.

One lone voice speaks up.

"How tha hell d'ya “acciden'ly” make some shite like tha'?" He asks, with emphasis on ‘accidentally’.

And air quotes.

Well, ok, the air quotes were implied.

"It's complicated; I guarantee you would not understand the answer," I tell him with no remorse for the truth.

The man who questioned me falls silent for a few moments, seemingly thinking about my reply to him.

"Fair 'nough," he says, "let the lass through m'Johnnies," I see him, and many others, stand up and create a clear path to the door.

"Thank you, gentlemen."

I rushedly return to my more permanent quarters to retrieve the botched concoction. I grab the sheets off my bed and cautiously add them to the bundle wrapping already around the bottle- just for assurance- and begin to slowly walk down the staircase with the wrapped container, through the cleared path of adventurers, and all the way outside; thankfully without incident.

After I took the beaker to the nearby pond, placed it in the water, and entertained my inner child by breaking it with a rock, causing the pond to be set ablaze.

After I watched the water burn for a little bit, I returned to my "home" and flopped into my bed, just ready to be done with the day.

I absentmindedly reach for the necklace that's under my shirt and pull it out to look at the ring that's tied to the end.

"You'd have been turning 50 next week,” I say to it. “Imagine that. Big hurdle lotta people anymore seem to struggle to get to, but can't seem to die after they hit it.”

A moment of silence passes between the necklace and me, leaving me almost wishing it would say something back.

"Can't believe I'll be passing your record in just 6 years, mama."

I wipe away the beginnings of a tear from my eye and put the necklace back under my shirt.

"Well, I can't finish the tranquilizer today, need to go to the shop tomorrow to get more materials. Guess I'll just head down for an early dinner tonight."

I get up off my bed and start towards the stairs back down. However, I stop just as I take the first step down and look back at my room, which is cluttered with various alchemy materials, and parchments scattered across the floor, among other messes.

Most people in my line of work would call me a disaster, but honestly… I don’t care.

Here at the Inn, I feel like I can live a new life, different from that which I lived back in Helmholtz.

"Yeah…” I say as I take a moment to reflect on my life.

“I'm doing alright for myself now," I assure myself and set off down the stairs, where the people I currently call my friends are probably getting ready for dinner.

I’m glad I’ve made it here by myself.

[grievousdearu]

Chance Meeting Under the Bridge

I pointed to the small, visibly stale loaf of bread on the front of the counter while handing over eight copper pieces.

“Missy, that’s gonna be ten copper, not eight,” the ragged old man behind the counter told me.

I don’t like talking to people anymore, so I just sighed and pulled out the other two copper pieces I had left and gave them to him.

“Don’t eat it all in one sitting, you’re liable to make yourself sick,” he warns me and hands me the bread.

It felt like a soft stone, but I hadn’t eaten today yet, so I didn’t really care. I turned around and walked off with my late lunch, following the path I take every time to the bridge I always go to. 

I don’t even know why I like that bridge, it’s noisy whenever someone goes over it- however infrequent that may be; and it smells like a dead wet rat when it rains.

All I know is that it’s not home. It’s not the place where I go looking for mama in the morning; only to not find her. It’s not the place that smells like cinnamon, even when she’s been gone for days at a time.

I sit down, realize I’ve started crying again, and wipe away the little moisture forming in my eyes.

“…not again…”

I take a deep breath in, lower my hood, and start picking away at the bread piece by piece. I know it’s not worth getting this worked up over; it happens every time I think about why.

A couple of weeks ago, mama started leaving the house really early in the morning, and I don’t know why. I still feel sick every time I think about the first time it happened. I panicked because I didn’t know what happened to her. When she finally came home later that day, I was on the bed holding onto my knees, rocking back and forth.

All she did after that was hold me. No explanations as to where she went. She didn’t even say it wouldn’t happen again.

She just held me.

And that’s what scared me the most.

Mama always told me everything. She was always there to tell me what was going on, always showing me what things did, and how to avoid being laughed at by mean people.

Everything.

I don’t know what changed, but it scares me.

I remember where I’m at as the bridge creaks as I hear someone walk over it- though it’s odd; it sounds slower than normal. I try to ignore it and eat more of my bread, but something feels wrong. The creaking stops and I lean back against the wall.

I just want to eat.

“...Cinnamon bread?”

The sudden appearance of a blue and brown hooded figure over the side of the bridge startled me so much, I reflexively threw my bread into the stream and staggered to put my hood back on. I huddle against the wall, trying to shield myself.

“Whoa!” The young-sounding boy’s voice shouts as I hear a flop on the ground, “Horns!”

Why did he have to see them? Now I’m going to have to run home and hope he doesn’t chase me like what happened two weeks ago.

But what I heard right after that was something I’d never heard before.

“That’s awesome!”

He’s joking, right? Surely he’s just trying to be sarcastic and draw me out so he can pull on them or something. I check over my shoulder to see what the boy does next.

“Can I see them again?!”

Yeah. That’s exactly what he’s doing. He’s just wanting to taunt me just like everyone else. Now I can’t even take off my hood here? The only other place I thought I was safe taking it off is now gone.

“Hey, why are you shivering? It’s not cold,” the boy licks his index finger and puts it in the air, “...is it?”

Think.

Stop and think how to distract him so I can run.

“Hey, are you okay?” I hear him getting closer to me.

Stop sounding like you’re trying to be sincere. I know you’re not.

He stops just a few steps behind me.

I close my eyes and brace myself for the beating I feel coming.

But there isn’t one. All I hear now is… sniffing?

“…You smell nice,” I hear him say behind me.

What that boy said caught me off guard so much, I finally turned around to face him.

“Cinnamon?” He asks with his head tilted up slightly, smelling the air around us.

In response, I can’t help but just sit there and stare at the boy that’s standing over me.

This is wrong. Thisfeelswrong. Why isn’t he trying to hurt me like everyone else? Why won’t he just spit on me and then go away? At least if he did that I wouldn’t have to be constantly worrying about what he’s going to do next.

“Was that cinnamon bread you threw away?” He once again asks me about cinnamon. I know exactly what’s making him think that, and part of me hurts inside after thinking about it, but I brush it off as less important than the boy stood behind me.

“…Go away,” I try to quietly shoo him away and turn my head away from him.

“But you lost your bread, right?” He points towards the stream where the bread is now disintegrating.

“I said go away,” I try to shoo him again. I try speaking up, but I still can’t bring myself to speak louder than a low conversational voice.

“But I made you throw away your food, I should at least repay you for that,” he says as he reaches into his pocket. I reflexively flinch thinking he’s going for a knife, but he only pulls out a stick of dried meat.

“Here,” he holds it out to me.

I stare at the bland-looking thin stick of dried meat before mustering the courage to speak up again.

“I’m not stupid, I know it’s poisoned,” I shove his hand away.

“It is?” He asks, putting it up to his nose, and licks it. “It doesn’t smell or taste poisoned,” he pauses, “I think so, at least?”

I once again look at him, but I try to figure out what he’s getting at this time. I still don’t let my guard down though; I’m not sure if he’s either clever by trying to get me to relax, or if he’s really just this dense.

I hear the distant rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, which distracts the boy long enough for me to try making a dash for home. I don’t get far before I trip over my hood, which had been blown under my feet by the wind.

And it falls off.

“So they were horns!” He exclaims after seeing me without my hood. I rush to cover them with my right arm while I scrounge for the red hood.

“So then what are you going to do, tug on them?! Was that what you were after?!” I shout in panic.

“No, I just wanted to look at them,” he says as he sits down where I was before, “they look cool.”

“Stop trying to make me look stupid!” I shout at him again.

“That’s not what I was doing,” he says as he sticks the dried meat stick in his mouth and chews on it. “I don’t see things like that often, so I just wanted to look.”

“…I don’t believe you,” I say as I finally tie the hood back around my head.

“Why not?” He, for some reason, innocently asks.

“Because everyone else does mean things when they see them, why would you be any different?!”

“Wait,” he stands back up and faces towards me, “people really get mean when they see your horns? That’s dumb.”

I finally understand; this boy is just dense. I hesitantly relax my shoulders after I come to the conclusion he’s not likely to do anything to me.

Not yet at least.

“You sure you don’t want a jerky stick?” He asks as he holds out another stick.

“I’m fine,” I fidget with the small pebble I had in my hand as I try to hide my nervousness.

“Suit yourself,” he bites off a chunk of the meat stick and chews on it. After a few seconds pass, I start to hear the soft trickle of rain hitting the ground. “Well, I probably should get going. Dad’s probably wondering where I went,” he says as he stands up, “See you later,” he waves as he climbs back up the creek bank and back onto the street.

I can’t bring myself to return the wave to him, but… something felt weird about him

I also can’t help but wonder if I’m going to have to find a new place to hide to eat outside the house again, now that that boy knows where I am.

Assuming he doesn’t forget about it before the sun’s even down, at least…

[grievousdearu]

Hole in the Wall

It hurts. “Get her out of here!” I hear someone yell over the various booing and shouting. They’re all screaming at me.

“Her kind should be burned for what they've done!” They hate me. “We don’t want your kind in our world no more!” But I didn’t do anything wrong. “Kill her!” They all scream at me. Did I?

My mind flashes back to before this started. Just before mama left, and before I made the mistake of showing myself in public. I try to remember how I got here- how I came to be stuck inside a hole in the wall, cowering in fear from the crowd trying to kill me.

     “Natalia, I’ll be back in a little bit,” Mama says as she pats me on the head, “do you want me to light some cinnamon for you?”

     I nod in affirmation. She picks me up in her arm as she walks over to our makeshift dinner table and puts out one of her candles on it.

     She does her usual little trick where she waves her hand around and produces a small flame to light it, just like she always does when she lights a candle.

     “Mama,” I say to her, “when are you gonna teach me how to do that?”      She puts me back down in one of the chairs and kneels next to me.      “Soon enough, sweetheart. It’s too dangerous for you right now, but I promise when you get old enough, I’ll teach you.” She parts my hair and kisses me on the forehead.      “What are we gonna have for dinner?” I ask her.      “I was thinking we’d have a special dinner tonight,” she stands back up, walks to the door, and puts on her hood. “I saved up some extra money, so I was going to get us a little meat and bread for some meat buns.”      I smile and cheer a little bit.

     I love the meat buns she makes, they’re really tasty and squishy.      “I’ll be back in a little bit, then,” she says as she waves to me, and closes the door behind her.

     It’s been a while since Mama left, and I got bored after I finished doing my chores.

     “It’s bright out there today,” I say to myself.      I know it’s not there on purpose, but there’s a little gap in the worn-down wooden roof where I can see out to the unusually clear sky. Mama takes me out with her in the woods every now and then when she needs spices, but other than that, I usually just stay inside.

     I don’t mind it, though; the candles she lights when she leaves smell really nice, and the big bed we have is really comfy.

     I lay back on the decorative rug on the floor right underneath the hole in the roof and look at the sky.      “What’s taking mama so long?” I say absent-mindedly. It’s been about thirty minutes since she left- I think- but she’s still not back. I know she always tells me to stay inside, but she never says why; I just listen to what she says.

     But I don’t think I will today. It looks really nice, and she always goes outside, so why can’t I?      I walk over to the door and try opening it, but it won’t budge. The knob turns, but the door won’t swing open- but then I see the bolt that’s keeping it in place.      I try to grab it but it’s just a little too high out of my reach, so I get a chair from the dining area in order to reach up to it. It’s a little hard to slide, but I eventually get it to move, and the door comes open just a bit.

     I move the chair back to the table, then I swing the door fully open, walk outside, and shut it behind me.

     I have to hold my hand over my eyes for a little bit while I get used to how bright it is out here, but I still manage to walk down the narrow cobblestone street, passing all the merchants and shops as I go.      “Hey you there, little miss! How would you like to buy a necklace?” I hear one of the merchants off next to me try to sell me some jewelry.      My eyes have mostly adjusted to the light, so I let my hand back down to my side and walk over to the man.

     Then he suddenly got a mean look on his face and leaned over on his counter.      “Never mind, seems like you’re broke,” he says as he points away from me, “now get out of here and make room for the people who can afford it.”

     I stand there for a second trying to figure out why he suddenly didn’t want me to buy anything, but I suddenly get nudged out of the way by some larger men, so I just keep walking down the street, looking at what people are selling.

     But then something feels wrong.      It feels like the street was getting emptier and quieter as I went further down it. I thought it may have been because I was getting further away from the center of town, but I knew I wasn’t.      Then I realized that a lot of people were watching me as I walked, whispering to each other as I passed by.

     As I’m walking down, I look at a pair of people talking to each other, but because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking, I accidentally bumped into a large man in front of me.

     “Hey, watch wh-“ he starts speaking, turns around, looks behind him, but only then does he look down to where I am.      “S-sorry si-“ I start to apologize, but he laughs at me before I can finish my apology.      “Haha! Look at what we have here! We’ve got ourselves a Failborn!” He says as he looks around, then back at me.      “F-failborn?” I question the word I just heard.      “Yeah, you’re a demon child, aren’t ya?”      “I d-don’t understand, sir.”      “Of course you don’t. You probably barely even understand what I’m saying, you uneducated bitch,” he says loudly, clearly insulting me.      “Wh-“      “Shut up and go back to your little hellhole, where your kind belongs,” he steps closer and looks down at me, “I don’t want to see your brighteyes face around here again.”      “B-but I live around here,” I say as I try to back away from him.      “That’s gold!” He laughs loudly again, “You expect me to believe you can afford to live here?!”      The crowd suddenly begins to turn from a whisper to a loud murmur.      “What’s next, you’re gonna tell me your father is a Noble here?”      “I-I don’t know-“      “Oh, right, of course you don’t know who your father is. Wouldn’t surprise me to hear your mother’s a whore and screwed up.”

     “D-don’t say that about my mama!” I try to speak up to stop him from talking like that about mama.      “Or what?” He steps closer to me again, backing me against a wall.

     “I-I don’t…!”      “Of course you don’t know, because you won’t do anything!” The crowd again starts getting louder yet, with the occasional agreement.      “Now do what you’re told, and get out of my sight,” he says as he pushes me off the wall and onto my side.      I shuffle on my hands and knees trying to get out of here, but I am stopped by a wall of people that’s now booing me. I feel a tap on my shoulder and look behind me to see who was there, but nobody’s there.      Then I realize it was a pebble that was tossed at me.

     “Why are-“      “Get out of here and don’t talk, sideshow!” I hear one of the voices from the crowd call out at me.

     I look around to try to find somewhere to hide, but I can’t see anywhere.      The pebbles started coming at me quicker and quicker, eventually turning into small rocks.

     Why are they throwing stuff at me? I didn’t do anything wrong to them other than bump into someone. Was it really that rude of me to do?

     I finally see a crack in a wall that should be big enough to fit me inside and protect me, so I quickly crawl over into it and hide.      “Get her out of here!”

     A sudden, sharp pain drills into the back of my head.

     I look to the ground next to me while grasping the area where I felt the pain, to see I got hit by a large stone just as I got into the crack.

     “Her kind should be burned!”      They all hate me for something I don’t even know about.

     “We don’t want your kind in our world!”      I look up to see a bright light. Then it’s suddenly gone, as the sky is blocked out by someone looking into the hole above me.      “Kill her!”

     My mind goes blank from the pain of something heavy falling on my head.

     I look down as far as I can with the limited space in the crack; then I see it.

     A rock was dropped on top of me, and as it hit my head, it clipped the horn on the right side of my forehead.

     And a piece of my horn fell with it.

     It takes a moment for the pain to register, after which, I finally give in to the physical and mental pain I’ve been put through, and I scream.

     I scream louder than I knew I could, and it scatters the crowd from the opening.

     No, wait, it’s the guards doing that. I think. I can’t tell who’s screaming anymore, from the mix of the crowd, the guards, and myself.      The commotion grows louder and louder as people are pushed away from the crack.      Then I hear the voice calling out to me that I wanted to hear the most right now.      “Natalia!”

     Mama.      “Natalia…!”      I can’t hear anything other than her calling out my name. I know she’s saying something else, but I can’t focus enough to make out the rest.      I look out to see where it’s coming from, and I see mama in her red hood, reaching out to me. I can read her mouth to make out the rest of what she’s saying.      ‘Grab on to my hand.’      I quickly hold out the hand I had been holding my forehead with towards her.      I notice that it's been shaded red, but I try not to pay it any attention.

     I try not to focus on the people trying to push their way past the guards towards us.

     I’m still crying and screaming as I crawl out of the crack and towards mama. A circle of guards pushes everyone aside and forms a line between them and us.

     Mama takes off her hood, revealing her own curled and semi-sheep-like horns, and wraps it around my head. The line of guards keeps the crowd from following us home, where mama sits on the edge of the bed and holds me, rocking me.

     She holds me like that for somewhere close to an hour, when I finally fell unconscious from the exhaustion of crying and screaming as much as I have been.

     Even when I woke up later that evening, mama was still holding me in her arms as we both laid in our bed- which now had blood stains from where I was bleeding on my forehead.

     She didn’t say anything about how I disobeyed what she told me.      She didn’t scorn me.      She just held me until morning.

     That’s what made me feel at ease.

     Knowing she was still there.