OHhhhhhhhhhhhhh may I ask about "not a place of power but a tear"? I just have to know what that is!
Sure! @medeaft
So... in Gangs of Olympia, places of power are areas with high magical energy. They can be used by the Aelfe (elves) for actual power, like electricity, and for others, they're associated with strange happenings--which is what is happening in the city of Olympia. Hauntings, demon parasites, stuff like that. One of the Founders of the city suspects that it was built on a place of power that is now awakening, but Mickey (a faerie) takes her underneath the city and tells her that it's not a place of power. There is a tear in the fabric between this world and the spirit world. As spirits continue to push against it, trying to escape, it will continue to grow and destroy the world (again).
A long while ago, there was an event called The Great Storm, which destroyed the world, which was modern like this world, but with elves and dwarves, etc. A group of Aelfe with magical powers (Aelfe Dolisie) formed a Morgln (coven centered around a spirit or otherworldly being) and opened a doorway to the spirit world, thinking they could control it. They didn't and all the spirits came rushing out as a great storm, sinking the island of the Aelfe Dolisie (Unaedhra Caeth), wiping out the Dolisie and their magic, and destroying the rest of the world.
So, you'd see why they would be concerned about a tear between the worlds that could cause a similar disaster.
Sorry, I know this was kind of long, but I needed to give you some background info for it to make sense, lol.
Thank you so much for your question!!!!
From the document:
“This isn't a place of power,” said Mickey.
“What?” Serena snapped, rising from her seat. She shook her head. “But all the activity here—surely it's caused by one of the great crystals.”
“No.” Mickey started to take a cigarette from his pocket. What the hell am I doing? He thought. I got dire news, and here I am thinking about a damn cigarette. He took a deep breath, crossing his arms. “It's a rift.”
“A what?”
“It can happen from time to time, small tears opening up and allowing people to cross into other worlds. Most of the time it's so small that only one person can get through it before it closes up again. There's tales of all sorts of monsters on the outside. These could be from any number of worlds. Beasts that managed to get through and then found themselves stuck in an unfamiliar place.”
“So, that's where they're coming from? All the monsters people have been reporting—snake-like creatures crawling out of pipes, tornadoes of black fog forming in people's living rooms, televisions coming to life—it's not due to magic, but to this rift?”
Mickey nodded.
“But this kind of rift couldn't have opened up on its own. Someone had to have opened it, or the area was weakened in some way and is slowly tearing open. Listen, I came here worried today—not disappointed. This is a large rift. One that can only be closed by powerful magic. Old Dolisie magic. Natural magic. The kind that doesn't even exist anymore.”
“And if it stays open?”
“How well do you know your history? You know about the Great Storm, right? How it was started.”
“Well, yes I do. Some elves decided to open a doorway to the spirit world.”
“Right,” said Mickey. “No one has ever traveled there, because as soon as a door is open, spirits come pouring right out, non stop. And they destroyed the world, Serena. They brought down cities, toppled mountains, and the sea washed over the entire world, drowning all in its path.”
“So...”
“So, these 'monsters' are actually demons, and demons come from the spirit world.”
“So, we have the cause of the end of the world blooming beneath our city?”
“That's right,” Mickey said. He slipped a cigarette from his jacket pocket and held it to his lips, inhaling smoothly as he lit the other end. “So, what are you gonna do about it, my Queen?”
The sound of pealing bells ripped the man from his slumber, urgent and yet doleful as they sang, as though they knew that all was lost. The small room, usually dark as a tomb at night, flickered from the light of torches as frantic footsteps sounded in the hallway, running this way and that. From the window, the man could see the courtyard, illuminated--almost blindingly bright--by light streaming out from the many windows of the dormitory and dancing along the courtyard, which was lined with oil and kerosene lamps. A large, stone fountain, water trickling from its spout, glistened and sparkled below, the grass and flowers around it undisturbed--for now.
The old man stood, stumbling around the room as he dressed, feeling for robes and shoes and hood, usually a bright daffodil-yellow, but simply gray in the twilit room. More footsteps hurried past the room and down the hall, shadows coming and going in flashes as bodies blocked the light streaming in from underneath the door. Each shadow seemed to foretell what was to come. They said there was no hope. Darkness would descend on light.
The old man cursed as his shaking hands fumbled over the buttons on his robe. He was taking too long.
It was the first of the screams that made the man abandon his task, and he fastened a belt around his waist, his sword hanging from it, neatly tucked into a leather scabbard. He quickly lit a kerosene lamp and threw the door open, looking back and forth down the hall before he stepped from the room, barefoot and with his robes partially unbuttoned. He reached over, putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
The halls had become eerily quiet when, only a few moments ago, they had been alive with footsteps and whispers. The man shivered. He didn't want anyone to think he was a coward--of course he was dedicated to the cause, but he had heard this story a million times--and never once did it go well for people like him.
He could hear more shouting outside. Most of the other Illuminators were probably fighting by now, and, indeed, the old man heard the clanging of swords, interspersed between the savage chorus of yelps and groans. He couldn't help but shiver, once again. Never before had he faced one of the monstrous shadow-men. It was said that they had no faces, their entire heads covered with cloth, and yet they could see. They growled like monsters, fighting with blades and talons, and sometimes even flying through the air. They struck, lightning-fast, like vipers, but not for want of strength. One man alone could toss a dumpster half an acre, and together--well, they might as well have walked off with the entire building.
The old man knew it was silly. The descriptions were greatly exaggerated, but still he knew the shadow-men were dangerous. Most likely, they would all die.
Making his way down a spiral staircase, the man finally arrived at the door leading to the courtyard. The sounds of the struggle were still muffled behind the heavy, oak door, but only a crack was needed between the barrier and the threshold to unleash the fury beyond.
He found himself wishing that they hadn't put all those lights in the courtyard.
It was a sight he had seen before--people being killed ruthlessly, brutally, as they begged for their lives--but never before had his brothers, the Illuminators, been the victims. Never before had he watched the people he cared for as they were slaughtered by creatures, nothing more than shadowy streaks as they darted to and fro, causing bodies to fall and blood to splatter.
It was unbearable. The sounds--the screaming, grunting, gurgling, and the inhuman screeching, coming not from the monsters, but the men. His brothers lay on the ground, their robes soaked in dark liquid, and a stench wafting from their bodies. The others--the ones who still lived--ran, but they never made it far before they were cut down from above or from behind by phantoms--nothing but shadows in the flickering light.
Fear gripped his heart. The old man watched as one Illuminator was ripped from limb to limb in just seconds by a swarm of shadows. There was no way he was going out there. They could call him a coward, but all he wanted to do was get out alive.
He closed the door, locking himself away from the massacre outside. He could escape through the graveyard.
Making his way down several halls, the man's bare feet slapped on the stone floor as he ran. Occasionally, he looked behind him, but nothing followed, and each time he turned a corner to find another clear hallway, he sighed.
While the courtyard was to the south, the graveyard sat to the west, running alongside the building to the north. It had two sections: a large, empty field, and a small, fenced-off area with stone slabs, all neatly lined with multicolor perennials. Above each slab burned a torch--an everlasting torch that could only be extinguished by magic. As the old man exited the building, he could see that none were lit.
Leaving the door ajar, he ran out onto the mossy hill past the torch-marked graves where fallen Illuminators lay in peace, and jumped the fence, nearly twisting his ankle as his robe caught on one of the spikes. He yanked at the fabric, letting it tear, and continued to run.
Despite the man's panic, the area was peaceful, save the inquietude caused by the darkened torches. Crickets chirped to the stars, and fireflies--good omens to the Illuminators--did their piece, twinkling among the flowers and grasses.
The old man slowed his pace, panting as he passed the long dead Illuminators. He had memorized them all--the brave men who fell, cleansing the sacred area of the impure. Their blood and flesh fed the flowers and grass.
Godfrey Hendricks, Lyle Seastone, William Huxley, Wesley Pierce, Henry Donovan, Timothy Rexler, Lucien Van Dyke--all martyrs, their lives sacrificed in exchange for light.
Who would bury the others? Who would bury him?
No, now wasn't the time to have morbid thoughts. He would get out of there--alive. He would run to--Fossil, yes, Fossil was close by. He would run to the city of Fossil and get help.
The graveyard gave way to an open field, and just like any field, it was large, flat, and covered in grass--but it was what lay underneath the field that made it special. The impure. All the dead impure--elves and dwarves, men, women, children, their remains rotted away and leaving nothing but bones.
He scanned the vastitude of the field before him. The ground was pitch black. The man’s heart pounded in his ears, as though it were warning him of some hidden danger. Some trap he was steps away from falling into. But he had to keep going. He had to get out.
The old man hopped the second fence, venturing out onto the dark field. It only took a few steps for him to realize that something was not right. The ground had become uneven--hard and full of crevices and holes. It shifted and cracked under his feet.
“But you know.”
A voice rang out from the darkness, and the old man stood, frozen, as a shadow appeared before him.
“You know what you stand upon, Illuminator.”
Indeed, he did know. There was no sign of the usual grass and soil beneath his feet. It had been stripped away, revealing--
“The dead.”
The shadow stepped closer, radiating ice. The Illuminator could not help but shiver as the faceless form approached, showing dark black against the already dark sky. He was simply a silhouette. A shadow.
"Who are you?" The Bleádh in front of Leilae raised his nose and sniffed, stepping in front of the open doorway.
"I am Leilae, daughter of King Órothan of Caelenya. I wish to speak with Andóloreth Ingíl iedh Unaedhra Caëth."
"Oh, my lady," the elf said, bowing slightly and raising an eyebrow. He gave her a mocking smirk, clearly not convinced. He scanned her up and down, noting her worn shoes and dusty clothes. Her hair had taken on some frizz due to the humidity. "You don't look like any princess I've ever seen."
Leilae tightened her lips, holding her shoulders back in an authoritative stance.
"Perhaps you were expecting a petite, fragile thing in a long, flowing dress, adorned with jewelry of silver and gold and precious stones? Do you have any idea of the world outside this place? It is no place for dainty princesses, and it is especially unwise to travel wearing priceless Aelven jewelry, as doing so would only get me killed." She spat each word clearly with perfect diction, paying attention to the Bleádh's eyes as the words hit his face.
"I simply," she continued. "Have a few questions for Andóloreth Ingíl, and I would appreciate it if you, as his servant - "
The elf scoffed.
"I - I am no servant. Do I look like some dirty hu -- "
"I would appreciate it if you, Aelfe Bleádh, will please inform Andóloreth Ingíl of my presence and of my desire to speak with him." Leilae took a deep breath, satisfied. "If you value your job, that is," she added with a smirk.
"Let her in, Lenwyld," a voice said from inside.
Lenwyld the Aelven servant stepped aside, gesturing toward the doorway.
"You may enter," he said, avoiding her gaze.
Leilae strode inside, not bothering to thank the aelfe.
Andóloreth Ingíl of the Aelven city of Unaedhra Cäéth greeted Leilae with a low bow as she entered a small lounge. A fireplace crackled behind Ingil, making the light flicker in his silver hair.
"What a privilege that a princess of the Aelfe Milern would travel all this way to visit me. Please sit, Ii-Leilae Órothan-ethróu iedh Caelenya." He beckoned her toward a plush chair lined with burgundy velvet.
Leilae settled into the seat, sighing. She hadn't realized how tired she was from her journey and was tempted to kick off her shoes and massage her feet. Of course, that would not be proper, and she, being the representative of Caelenya for the first time in many years, ignored her urge, crossing her legs instead.
The deathlands have turned me into nothing but another dirty ruffian, she thought.
Ingil took the seat across from her, resting his ankle on his knee. His robes draped over the side of the armchair, swathing him in sophistication and elegance. Leilae straightened her back, trying to look as dignified as she could in the dusty rags, lined with sweat and dust, that clung to her skin. She smiled.
"I apologize for my attire, gwa-Ingil," she said. "I had to leave some of my items behind after being attacked by bandits."
"Yes, I have heard it is quite dangerous on the outside. I am amazed that you have come all this way just to speak to an old Dolisië." He smirked.
Leilae found herself wondering if the aelfe before her knew why she had come. Ingil answered her question.
"You've traveled across the deathlands to see a spectacle. To gaze in awe at one of the first ones. Possibly the only one left in the world." He shifted his weight onto his right arm, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "But your objective has changed. I am no longer the spectacle, for you listened instead of simply looking. I applaud you for your wisdom, and I hope you listened well."
"Indeed, I did," Leilae replied. "I listened to you promise the Aelfe Bleádh that they would rise once again, becoming dominant over this world, but I could not help but notice that you did not mention the Milern and the Craoe. What of them? What of my people who hide in the mountains with the dwarves? We have never been at the top as have the Bleádh, and I find myself worrying that we will once again serve them.
"We have restored what glory we had before. We have a king, a beloved one at that, and we have taken back our culture that was so diluted by that of the Bleádh that we had to turn to history texts and ethnographies written by our oppressors to know how we once lived. I am here speaking to you to make sure that does not happen again. If the Bleádh succeed and once again rule over the world, I humbly request that you leave us be. Let the Milern live in their caves and mountain valleys in peace. That is all I ask."
Leilae bowed her head, swallowing involuntarily. Ingil considered her for a moment before speaking.
"I have always believed that the other Aelven races--the Milern, the Craoe and the Elia--are just as good as the Bleádh and should be considered equal. If it is your desire, I will make sure that you and your people are left alone, but I would also like to offer you the opportunity to live in equality with the Bleádh. They are your former oppressors, but no longer will I allow this disgraceful disharmony among the Aelfe. It is shameful how divided our people are. It makes us no better than the humans, from whom we strive to distance ourselves. Suddenly, we find ourselves laboring to highlight the differences between the Aelfe and the Dae Heinya." He took a deep breath, leaning forward. "Ii-Leilae, I would like to help you and your people." His golden eyes locked onto hers, and she nearly gasped. Ingil's irises glowed and swam as though they contained whole worlds--whole universes teeming with life.
"A new age is coming," he said. "Let us start anew. Let us not make the mistakes of the past. This time, the Aelfe will be unified, and we will give the Deinya no mercy. We will sweep over the world and take what is ours."
"What will happen to the Deinya?" Leilae looked searchingly into Ingil's face.
"They will be put in their place. Below the Aelfe. They will serve us, and all will be as it should be."
"They won't go quietly," Lou replied. "Their lives are short, and therefore, they are much more willing to sacrifice their lives."
"This is true," Ingil said with a slight nod. For a moment, Leilae caught Ingil's eyes lingering above her own. He quickly corrected himself, lowering his gaze.
"I am no king," he said. "But I believe I can lead the Aelfe to a better future. A future in which humans will be treated as intelligent beasts. That is all they are. Talking animals."
Leilae shifted in her chair.
"I wouldn't go so far as to-- "
" --Are you not angry?" Ingil interrupted, turning his head upward. He meant to cut in, and he was not sorry. "You have been betrayed by someone you thought was your friend. Many Aelfe have gone through the same situation. There is no need for us to answer to, or even respect, these Deinya. They are fragile, sickly, and ugly." He scoffed. "Who would create such pitiful creatures if not for them to serve the Aelfe? If not to be beaten down and disciplined until they become mindless slaves? You see, when we let them climb onto our shoulders, once they had their grip on the top level, they beat us down, leaving us trapped below them. Then they destroyed all that had been given to us. The very world outside these walls is evidence of their inferiority--their tendency toward destruction. Their inability to become responsible for themselves and the world around them. They kill each other off, and then they kill everything else. We have every reason to take this world back. To heal it and to set things right. Or would you simply have us all die because of the humans' recklessness? Or to their envy combined with their murderous nature, as did the Dolisie?"
Ingil leaned forward, taking Leilae's hands. She felt a jolt travel throughout her body and a wave of pleasure, as though electricity flowed from his skin. She looked down at her hands and watched as Ingil's glow touched them, the light seemingly soaking into her skin. Ingil gave her a smile that caused her heart to flutter.
"Let us end this reign of terror. Let us rise up to bring light to the darkness. Let us heal the earth and restore the pride of our people. Let us--you, Ii-Leilae Órothan-ethróu iedh Caelenya, and I, and the Bleádh, the Milern, the Craoe, and the Elia, all the Aelfe--band together, hand in hand, for a better future."
He let go of Leilae's hands, and she stared at her fingers, mesmerized, as the glow lingered on her skin, emitting a tingly warmth. Soon, the glow faded, and she was back to normal. Ingil watched her in silence, his eyes smiling at Leilae's moment of childish awe.
"I want to share my light with you," Ingil said softly. "I want to share it with you completely. Let us form an alliance, Leilae. Let us wed, ensuring the future for both our clans."
*(This will not be in Gangs of Olympia, but it will happen at some point in the AtGS series)
If you like this excerpt, be sure to follow @gangsofolympia
Middi trembled, clenching her fists until her fingernails dug into her palms. This was it. This time, she would really do it.
She watched from the cramped alley as the tall, slim girl negotiated with a rather emaciated young man near one of the old subway entrances. The girl scowled and shook her head as the man pleaded with her, his face coming only inches from hers.
Middi had always been good at reading lips, and the words from the girl's mouth came out crisp and clear.
Back off.
The man obeyed, backing away a bit, but still, he pleaded. The girl stared at him blankly.
"Get the fuck out of here and come back when you got some money."
It was only when the man reached out, touching the girl lightly on her shoulder, that she sprang to life, shoving him back and kicking his shin.
The howl, Middi could hear.
The man fell to the ground, clutching his leg as he lay on the dirt road. Passersby, simply walked around and stepped over him. They knew not to get involved.
The girl's face was red, now, and she stood over the man, saying a few words before spitting on the ground.
Finally, the man got to his feet and, head down, staggered away, his weak body barely seeming to hold his weight.
Now was her chance. Middi took a deep breath and stepped forward, walking, as confidently as she could, toward the scowling woman, who now smoked a cigarette as she leaned against the rusty subway gate.
Essie Essex of the Bastard Aristocrats took no notice of Middi, even as she drew near.
"Um, excuse me," Middi started. Essie took a long drag from her cigarette, not even bothering to look at the speaker. "Excuse me." Still, no answer. "Excuse--"
"You fuckin' lost?" Essie spat, turning suddenly. Middi flinched, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat.
"Um, no, I, uh--"
Essie's eyes widened as she ticked her head forward, impatient.
"You lookin' to buy?" Essie blew a stream of smoke from her nose, throwing her cigarette to the ground.
"No, I, I--"
"Then, get lost, little girl." Essie turned away once again.
Middi took another deep breath, willing her body to stop trembling, but it was no use. But she had gotten this far, she couldn't run now.
"I want to join your gang."
After a few seconds, Essie chuckled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. She turned toward Middi, looking her up and down.
"We don't recruit under seven. Come back when you're seven, kid."
Horrifed, Middi stared up at the tall girl, her words, which had been so carefully crafted beforehand, completely forgotten.
"I - I'm not a kid. I'm twenty, actually. Twenty years old."
Essie snorted.
"Uh huh, 'n' I'm fifty. Really, little girl, the fuck outta here. You're blockin' my customers."
"I," Middi started. "I'm a half-dwarf, and, and a bastard. The bastard of an aristocrat."
Essie stayed silent for a moment.
"Yeah?" She answered finally, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, I--"
"Then you wouldn't mind doin' this little job for me, right?" Essie's eyes glowed as she stood over the half-dwarf.
"No, not at all." Middi attempted her best smile.
"Right, then," Essie started. "I want you to go to the old temple down on Betty and 105th. Knock on the door, but make sure no one's watchin'. Ask for Stokes. Tell 'im you're pickin' up Essie's package. Here." Essie reached into her pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag. Middi took it, eying the bag questioningly.
"You give that to Stokes. Tell 'im I'm payin' 'em back for what I owe." Essie cleared her throat. "'And if you run off with that, I'll hunt you down, slit your throat, 'n' use your skull as an ashtray. Real good ashtrays human skulls make. When you're done, come back here 'n' maybe I'll take ya to the Mansion."
-------------------------
As any walk throughout this city of humans, Middi's was full of curious eyes and pointing fingers. Most she ignored, turning away from the staring babies and the glaring old women. Others whispered, and some laughed, but Middi kept her eyes forward, focused on her destination. She would do this simple job, go see Kitt Monroe, and join the Bastard Aristocrats. Then, no one would dare laugh or point at her. She would belong to the most notorius gang in Olympia.
At four and one half feet, Middi could have passed for a very short human, if only she did not possess other Marrundon features. Her head was large in proportion to the rest of her body, her cheeks round and rosy. She possessed the same transluscent skin that served as a weakness for most Marrundoc, making it difficult for her to walk out in the sun for too long, lest her skin crack and burn. But like most dwarves, she rubbed Ticthec on herself each morning, protecting her skin from any natural or artificial light.
(Middi gets the package and then is robbed)
This is what she had prepared for. It was time to prove her worth.
She may have been short, but she had the strength of the Marrundoc. She charged, tackling the thief. He grunted as his face hit the hard ground, blood flying from his nose and mouth.
"Geh ov me!" He gargled. "Geh ov!"
Middi turned the thief over, kneeling by his chest and leaning over his face. The first punch brought more blood. It spurted from his nose onto Middi's dirty blouse, which had been a crisp off-white. The second punch got his attention.
"Tay git! Tay git! Ahm zorry." The man, still on his back slipped the pouch from around his belt. "Tay git! Ahm zorry," he repeated.
"You should be!" Middi scolded. She stood, snatching the bag from the man's reach. "How dare you steal from me! I'm a Bastard Aristocrat, you know!"
The man's eyes widened at the mention of the gang.
"Ah dihn noh," he blubbered, using his arms to slowly back away. "Ah dihn noh. Won cause any moah tubble." He put a hand out in front of him. "Don tell Kih. Don tell Kih Muroh peas."
"I'll think about it," Middi growled. "You just stay on the ground 'til I'm gone, and I don't wanna see you around here ever again."
"Okay, okay." The man nodded furiously. "Ow go unce yoah gone." More blood spurted from his nose.
"Good," Middi said. She stepped forward and spat on the man for good measure and then turned, leaving Cross Row with a smile on her face, a spring in her step, and fresh blood on her knuckles.
-----------------
Middi returned to the abandoned subway station entrance to find a crowd of people, all gathered around some central object. Some looked up, others looked down, and others both up and then down.
Staring up at the rainclouds in the sky, Middi could see nothing special. Soon her attention was drawn to laughter and the sound of splashing water. Some women in the front screamed, pushing their way out of the crowd, while others looked on disapprovingly.
"Stop that, you kids!" Middi heard the voice of a man sound out from the crowd. The kids seem to have broken whatever spell had been cast over the crowd, as the people on the edges turned and left, followed by the rest of the circle.
Now, Middi had a clear view of two boys jumping in a muddy puddle, water splashing from underneath their shoes. One boy, tired of jumping, decided to play a new game, shoving the other into the muck. The boy sat there on the ground, stunned for a few seconds, and then, his face red, stood and shoved the other boy. Soon, they both shoved each other, and shoving turned to hitting, and hitting to scratching, and scratching to pulling and biting.
"Ah!" One of the boys screamed as the other shoved his face down into the water. His legs and arms flailed helplessly as the boy sat on top of him, and bubbles rose to the surface of the puddle.
"You boys stop that right now!" An old woman hurried out to the children, swatting at the victorious one with a broom. She pulled the other from the water by his collar as he hacked and spit liquid from his nose and mouth. He stuggled to breathe between the sharp spasms of his shoulders and lungs.
The old woman took the other boy by the collar as well, dragging them both from the street.
"Wait until your father hears about this," the old woman muttered.
"No! No, Mrs. Ruz. Don't tell Papa. He'll kill us."
The nearly dead child grunted in agreement.
As for the rest of the conversation, Middi did not get the chance to hear it, as Mrs. Ruz took the children into an old brick building and slammed the door shut behind her.
With the streets back to their normal flow, Middi started to walk around the puddle to find Essie, but a small sound drew her attention back to the water, which now had small ripples along its surface, gliding outward from a central point.
She looked up, and then she looked down. Looking up again, she realized why the puddle had drawn such a crowd. The water came not from a leaking pipe or a spilled bucket, but the sky.
The others' murmurs became clear to Middi, now.
"...place will rot."
"They can't even fix a simple leak?"
"First the air filter, then the temperature regulator..."
"Won't someone do something about this?"
"...my children are sick and dying?"
No wonder Essie had left.
-------------------------
After few hours of wandering through streets and alleys, all identically filthy and run-down, and no sign of either Essie or any of the Bastard Aristocrats, Middi gave up for the day. It was getting dark.
A short conversation with a drunken man pointed her toward an inn not too far from where she was. She had no money for food or boarding, but she didn't want to sleep on the streets if she could help it.
Flashing neon lights marked the spot, shining eerily through the smoggy air. As Middi drew near, she realized that the man had pointed her not toward an inn, but a brothel.
Middi scanned the area quickly, but no other buildings gave any indication of life. Eying the girls out front, who blew kisses and threw suggestive phrases at the passing male folk, Middi took a deep breath and stepped forward.
At first the women ignored her, choosing to flirt with the men, no doubt to bait them into paying for an hour or two with them.
Middi cleared her throat.
"Um, excuse me."
The women's eyes fixed on the small half-dwarf before them.
"Lookin' for work?" One of the women said tauntingly.
"I'm looking for a place to stay. Is there an inn nearby?" Middi forced some confidence into her voice.
The two girls eyed each other and giggled.
"Plenty of beds here," the other woman said, batting her eyelashes. "And company, as well." She stepped from the porch of the wooden building, attempting to take Middi's arm. The woman smiled through crimson lips and dark, smoky eyes.
"I'm Jade," the woman purred. "And you are?"
"Middi." The half-dwarf stepped away from the courtesan's reach. "You said there's work? I can wash dishes or sweep the floors in exchange for a room for the night."
"Honey, washin' dishes will get you nowhere," Jade said. "Ain't too many places like this in the city, and this is the kind of place that men will sell their children just to get in for an hour."
"Well," Middi straightened her shoulders and held her head high. "I'm a Bastard Aristocrat, so--"
Jade chuckled, her other companion still on the porch joining in.
"Honey, what makes you think you'd get anything else but a knife in your gut walkin' around here?" Jade's teeth reflected the neon light in the darkness. "Do you even know where you are?"
"I--" Middi had to admit that she had gotten lost while looking for Essie.
"This is the Satin Petal. Best brothel in the city." Jade gave Middi a light chuckle, though it seemed to her a bit more sinister. "Over there--" she pointed toward a dark building. "Is the Stable. And next to that is the Butterfly. Over there is the Platinum Pussy, then the Demon's Nest, and over there is Red Velvet. That last one--" Jade pointed to a small doorway at the end of the road. "That is Asmodeus. Nobody goes there unless they're invited." She put her hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow.
"Come on, who are you really? You're no Bastard Aristocrat, and you shouldn't go around tellin' people that if you wanna keep your head, especially in this neighborhood." Middi opened her mouth to ask where exactly she was, but Jade read her mind. "You're in Devil's Alley, in the Reds right on the border of Inner Haughton."
Belles territory.
Middi felt her face turn hot.
"I guess I'm in the wrong place then."
Jade gave her a taunting smile.
"The wrong place to be if you're a Bastard--which you're not. Otherwise, I suppose it's the right place. Unless you don't have any money--which you don't."
Middi turned, eying the blackened streets.
"Is there anywhere safe I can go?"
"Not in the slums," Jade said. She eyed a couple of men passing by. "Look, honey, I gotta go back to work. If you want a job, go inside and talk to Mo."
--------------------------------
Middi sighed in relief as she entered the building, the warm air drawing the chill from her body. Perhaps she could just sit in a corner all night and nap without being noticed. But her plan was quickly shattered as she drew the attention of a group of men sitting at a table near the entrance.
Quickening her step, Middi passed them, drawing stares from yet another table of men.
"How much are you chargin'?" A voice called after her. A few whistles sounded from far away.
She hurried to the bar, hoping that she would be able to order a simple and free glass of water. Like all things in Olympia, the bar was human-sized, with no additional seats for dwarves and the like. Though Middi stood a good foot taller than most Marrundoc, she still found herself at a disadvantage as she attempted to climb onto the barstool.
As her eyes began to water, Middi strained to push her thoughts of Billingsley Manor as far away as possible, but still, they broke through the barrier. Her memories of home, where there was a chair at the table just her size and where everything in her bedroom had been built especially for her at the right height, and not too big or small. Everything, so perfect.
But that was why she had left in the first place. Everything was so perfect, so clean, so neat. Middi had felt as though everything had turned gray. Or a crisp, boring white. She couldn't just let her life pass by without doing anything on her own.
She had come to the Immigrant District for excitement. To change herself. She didn't want to be Sweet Little Middelyn anymore. She didn't want to be a child anymore.
But why had she come here? Her father would never have let her go to a place like this, but then again, she wasn't even allowed to leave the garden without supervision.
She shook the thoughts from her mind, concentrating on the challenge before her.
Planting her hands on top of the seat and hoisting herself up, Middi expected to find her bottom resting on the stool, as was her intention. However, as she rose, the stool's legs slipped from the floor, the seat tilting toward her. With a sharp smack, Middi found herself on her back lying on the sticky ground, a heavy stool having fallen along with her. She pushed the stool away, even as the men at the bar and a few girls nearby stopped to laugh.
Middi stood and turned toward the girls who had now stopped laughing. While they wore lacy nightgowns, their lips stained red and their eyes hastily smeared with charcoal, the other woman, wearing a black leather jacket, her hair short and curled, stood out from the rest.
Middi had heard about the Belles before, one of the Bastards' rival gangs, but she did not know much about them. She was sure, though, that this woman was one of them.
The woman, her lips lined flawlessly in red and her eyebrows thin and sharp, turned toward Middi, a smile forming on her face.
Middi did not like that look. It was the same look that a wolf gives a rabbit before mercilessly devouring it with one snap of its jaws.
The strange woman beckoned her over.
As Middi approached, the woman looked her up and down, one hand on her hip, and another lightly caressing a silver pistol in its holster. The other two girls huddled against each other, standing slightly away from them. Middi glanced at them, but both looked away as soon as her gaze reached their faces.
Standing in front of the unknown woman, Middi took a deep breath, attempting to look her in the eye. She could not, however, stop herself from trembling.
"Lookin' for a job?" the woman asked. The two girls giggled, just as the other two had before.
"Um, no, I--"
"You sure?" The woman raised her painted eyebrows. "I'm thinkin' there are plenty of men out there lookin' for your type. You know, that small, innocent, helpless look. And the baby fat 'round your cheeks is perfect."
"No," Middi murmured, looking downward. "I - I just - I'm lost and--"
"Yeah, no shit hun."
Middi's gaze drew upward again at the woman's half-smile.
"What's your name?"
"Middi--"
"What, Mini? Seriously?" The woman took a step backward, slapping her knee.
Middi willed herself to think back to the scuffle she'd had only hours ago. She took down a grown man. This was just an average sized human woman. She shouldn't be scared. But still, when she looked up at her painted face and ink-black curls, Middi couldn't help but attempt to shrink down into nothing but a small speck of dust on the floor.
"No, it's--"
"Hey, 'Mini and Mo'!" The courtesan on the left laughed, drawing even more smiles from the nearby patrons. "Eeny Meeny Mini Mo!" The two girls held each other drunkenly, nearly snorting as their laughter filled the room. "Eeny Meeny Mini Mo! Eeny Meeny Mini Mo!" they chanted, noting Middi's face, which had turned a bright crimson.
"Middi! My name's Middi!" she blurted. Mo took a dramatic step backward, putting her hand on her heart. "Alright, alright. Calm down there--"
"Rosette, Violet, ain't you got some customers to fuck? And Rosie, hun, you'd better meet quota tonight, or you'll find yourself sleeping outside in the dirt." The woman shooed the girls away before turning back to Middi.
"You know who I am?" she asked.
Middi shook her head, opening her mouth to answer.
"I'm Mo." The woman leaned down a bit, her face nearing Middi's. Noting the lack of recognition, Mo sighed. "I'm Mo. As in Moira Amour." Still nothing. "For shit's sake, you've never heard of me? What neighborhood are you from, anyway?" Middi hesitated. "Whatever, I don't really care where you're from." Mo waived her hand a few times, sending the scent of cheap perfume wafting through the tobacco smoke-filled air. "As long as you're not a Bastard, a Blackheart, or broke, then you're fine with me." Mo nodded thoughtfully, fidgeting with the bright pink ribbon tied around her neck. "And if you're a thief or anything, we're cool unless you steal from the Belles. 'Cause then we'd have to hunt you down, and you'd probably find yourself workin' here for real."
Mo scanned Middi up and down once more, a mischievous smirk on her face. She narrowed her eyes.
"So, what brings you here, Middi? It's not too often I see your kind around, and I don't think I've ever met a dwarf woman. Only those smuggler buffoons."
"Well, I'm a half-dwarf actually--"
Mo threw her head back, her mouth opening wide in a deafening cackle.
"So, which one fucked a dwarf? Mommy or Daddy?" Mo leaned forward, grabbing her legs as she snorted at the ground.
Middi hesitated. Of course the woman didn't actually expect her to answer that, right?
"No, no, don't answer that," Mo said between sobs. She grabbed Middi's arm, snorting once again.
Middi waited patiently, and after about fifteen seconds or so, Mo finally recovered from her laughing fit, assuming the heir of 'boss lady' once again.
"So, really. What are you doing here?" Mo put on her business face, which was, Middi had to admit, a bit intimidating.
"I - I'm looking for--" Middi stopped, shutting her mouth suddenly. She couldn't tell this woman, a member of the Belles, that she was looking for the Bastard Aristocrats. But she didn't know anyone in this part of town, did she?
A tanned and freckled face popped into Middi's head. Ebony curls and shining eyes, bright as the sun. A memory from the past.
"I'm looking for Lia. Do you know her?" Middi pursed her lips. She knew almost nothing about Lia. Not even a last name.
"Yeah, I might know her," Mo replied to Middi's surprise.
"Really? Where is she?"
Mo studied Middi over for what seemed like the twentieth time, one hand on her hip and another lightly holding her chin. Her sharp pink nails shone like claws in the shadowy light of the brothel.
"How do you know her?" Mo asked.
Middi stared up at the woman with wide eyes. What was she supposed to say? Mo sighed.
"How about this then--why are you looking for her? What do you want with her?"
"I - I - eh - I - want - uh--" Middi studdered.
"Where did you see her last? When?"
"Er--" Her voice caught in her throat.
"Then, I can't help you," Mo answered crisply. "Now, if you're not going to work or buy something, please get out of my brothel."
Mo turned on her heel.
"Wait!" Middi cried.
The woman sighed.
"What?"
It wouldn't hurt to tell this one woman the truth, right? Or maybe she should lie?
Mo had turned once again to face the half-dwarf.
"What?"
"I - I met her, Lia, at the Billingsley Manor. In Founder's Row. She worked as a maid there. Me too. We were both maids there. At Billingsley Manor." Middi could feel her muscles tensing as the fought the urge to simply turn and run from the building.
"Maids?" Mo repeated.
"Yes. At the Billingsley Manor. In Founder's Row."
"Uh huh." Mo nodded, a blank expression on her face. She said nothing for a while, seemingly lost in her own thoughts, but then her eyes lit up. "Ah, well," she started, putting both hands on her hips. "If I put out word that you're looking for her, do you think she'd come to you?"
"Yeah," Middi said, attempting to put on her best face. "Yeah, we were really close. She was so great to me. Like a sister." She hoped it was convincing enough.
"Uh huh," Mo repeated. After another moment of silence, the woman straightened up, clapping her hands together, her long nails clicking as they made contact with each other. "Alright, well, how about this--I'll put word out that you're looking for Lia, and in the meantime--you need someplace to stay?"
Middi nodded, barely holding down the excitement building in her throat. What had she just done? Was Lia that important?
"I'll get you a room, food, girls if you want. All of that. How's that sound?"
"Great!" Middi finally let the excitement settle on her face. "But why?"
Mo gave Middi another half-smile, the wolfish aura creeping back into her features.
"Lia's a good friend of mine," she said. "I think it would be fantastic if she came here for a visit."
---------------------
Middi attempted to rest amid the strange mix of the muffled crowd below and the rhythmic concoction of thumping, moaning, slapping, and grunting coming from the other side of either wall of her rented room.
She yawned. She wanted to sleep, but it seemed there was no peace here in the slums. Middi peeked behind a dusty curtain out the window and at the scene below. Nothing but drunken men and shady figures circling the brothel like vultures. They ruled the streets after dark.
Sitting back on the bed, Middi sighed. She let her eyes scan the wrinkled sheets and stained pillows, shuddering at the thought at what might lurk in those fibers. Perhaps it would be better to just sleep on the floor. A cockroach skittered from underneath the bed and made its way across the floorboards, disappearing into a small space in the wall.
Maybe she could just stay awake all night. Sitting on the edge of a dirty bed and staring at a crumbling wall, encircled by the cries of sad women forced into a life made to please sad men.
But the longer she sat there, still and quiet, the more the unsteady foundation on which she had built her new dream, wobbled and warped, threatening to give way at any moment.
What was she thinking? What was she doing here? Sitting in a dirty brothel in one of the worst parts of the city. Before this, she was hardly allowed to go outside. She wasn't allowed to have any friends that didn't work for her father, which meant that all of her friends had been servants and maids.
Like Lia.
Lia's image flashed into Middi's mind again. It was Lia who had started everything. She planted these thoughts into Middi's head--Sweet Little Middelyn, who, before she met Lia, had loved walks through the garden, dressing up for fancy dinners, and playing the piano for guests. She had loved how they clapped for her afterward. As if she were someone important. Someone with a special gift. Someone to look up to.
The first time Lia had convinced Middi to leave the house without her father's permission, the half-dwarf only took a few steps before running back through the door. When her father came home, she confessed her crime immediately--though, she never mentioned that Lia was involved.
The second time, Lia took Middi to the garden. They stopped in front of the roses, admiring them in silence.
"I would love some of these roses in my room," Middi had said. "Will you cut some for me?"
Lia opened her mouth, letting out her light, careless laugh, high and fluttering like a butterfly.
"Why don't you cut them?" Lia fished through her apron, emerging with a pair of scissors. "Here," she said, handing them to Middi.
The half-dwarf took a step back, looking from the scissors to the roses and then back to the scissors.
"But roses have thorns!" Middi cried. "What if I hurt myself?"
"Oh, it won't be too bad," Lia replied, folding her arms over her chest. "Not even as bad as a papercut."
Middi stared at the woman blankly. Lia frowned.
"You've never gotten a papercut before?"
Middi shook her head.
"Just cut the roses. Or don't. You're the one who wants them."
Lia had turned, sauntering away and leaving a frozen Middi in front of the rosebushes, a small pair of scissors in hand.
---
Middi's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of stomping and clapping coming from downstairs. Perking her ears, Middi listened carefully, noting the lyrics. The tune sounded familiar, but she was not sure where she had heard it before.
Well a bard went to a bar one day,
and he got a drink even though he couldn't pay
With an open tab and no gold in sight
The bard attempted a hasty flight
But he was caught by a giant man
and he said here we don't like stealin'
as the bard swiped some coins from his pouch
a green lady appeared and knocked the giant out
Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said
The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead
If the green lady had not come along
So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song
Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came
Washing over the river and the dangerous plains
Let us celebrate the green lady fair
Who saved a poor bard who couldn't pay his fare
Well the bard went along, to the north he went
and camped in the forest in a small old tent
and whaddya know it started to snow
and the bard realized he couldn't feel his toes
The bard shivered and rubbed his hands
perhaps he should have brought some mittens
and the food that he'd brought to eat
he realized that it was all frozen meat
But then the green lady came along
and lit a fire with some nice dry logs
and she threw the old tent into the flare
and said lets go I'm parked right over there
Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said
The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead
If the green lady had not come along
So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song
Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came
Washing over the river and the dangerous plains
Let us celebrate the green lady fair
Who saved a poor bard from hypothermia
Well the bard went along, to the south he went
And he found an old man who was trapped in a ditch
And when the man told the bard to help
the bard ran forward and got stuck in a cell
Hidden in the ground the trap had been
and now the bard was stuck with a weak old man
So he cried and he hollered as loud as he could
but around him were trees and trees are just wood
then the green lady came along with a smile
and said i'll help you but first I'll kill that crocodile
what croc? the bard said, but when he turned around
the old man had turned into a large reptile
Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said
The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead
If the green lady had not come along
So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song
Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came
Washing over the river and the dangerous plains
Let us celebrate the green lady fair
Who saved a poor bard who got caught in a snare
Well the bard went along, to the east he went
But too late did he realize his money he'd spent
But off in the distance, oh what could it be?
The bard had found a money tree
As he picked the coins hanging from its branches
He didn't notice the cause of his distress
When he turned around he realized he had
been scratched by a bear who wanted him dead
Then the green lady appeared out of nowhere
And took a dagger out of her green hair
with a slash and a bash, the bear's blood flowed
Then the lady said let's go inside it is cold
Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said
The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead
If the green lady had not come along
So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song
Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came
Washing over the river and the dangerous plains
Let us celebrate the green lady fair
Who saved a poor bard who was prey to a bear
Well the bard went along, to the west he went
But he didn't realize how the river bent
How do I cross this river, the bard asked himself
Then he tripped and he fell right into the swell
Down the river he tossed and he turned
Oh, how to swim, he wished he'd learned
But the green lady came and saved him again
and said, "now for that drink, my friend."
Buy me a drink, Mister Bard, she said
The bard obeyed, knowing that he'd be dead
If the green lady had not come along
So, he bought her a drink and then sang her a song
Oh Lady Green from the hilltops she came
Washing over the river and the dangerous plains
Let us celebrate the green lady fair
Who saved a poor bard from the deep river
Well the bard went along, but home he went
He realized he wasn't cut out for this shit
When he opened the door, a surprise he did see
Waiting for him at home was the Green Lady
With all of its talk about trees and green plains, Middi figured that the song had to be an old one. One from before the Great Storm.
I was tagged by @fayeisnowwriting. Bold the tags that a relationship in your WIP has.
Kitt Monroe and Essie Essex
height difference | mutual pining | first kiss | first love | wedding | in-jokes | lgbt+ | family disapproves | friend disapproves | would die for each other | fake relationship | arranged wedding | cuddlers | pda friendly | and they were room mates | holding hands | secret relationship | opposing world views | opposing personalities | opposing goals | getting a pet | have kids | want kids | grow old together | relationship failures | rests head on shoulder | share a bed | token dummies | relationship doubts | they have a song | first date | share a jacket | sharing a blanket | mutual interests | study buddies | bathing together | crash into hello | accidental nudity | laundry | same hobbies | cooking for each other | big fancy gala | sibling rivalry | hair stroking | dancing | laying in the grass | watching stars together | watching the other sleep | shared values | friends to lovers | enemies to lovers | lovers to enemies | childhood friends | slow burn | love triangle | toxic relationship | sitting on each other’s laps | can’t be together | hugs | forehead touches | neck kisses | car/motorbike rides | compliments | nicknames | falling asleep together | late night talks | gifts |
Sorry just a short excerpt I felt like adding since it relates to this:
Essie remembered the day she had lost the old necklace, trading it to a local butcher for a loaf of bread, a half pound of corned beef, and two mint candy sticks when she was twelve. To her, a full stomach was much better than a piece of useless junk. She'd taken to tucking it under her shirt so it wouldn't be stolen, but as she screamed and cried at the butcher's feet, begging him for food, it had fallen out and caught his eye.
“What about that necklace?” he'd said, his demeanor changing from solid ice to a suspicious warmth. “Here--” He turned, reaching for a cooler and pulling out a container and putting it on the counter along with a loaf of bread. “This is supposed to be my lunch and dinner for today, but you can have it if you give me that necklace.”
A child of the streets, Essie wasn't naive. She knew the necklace was worth much more than he was offering, but she also knew that the butcher would have a hard time selling it. She'd tried it herself, but nobody with any money ever came to the Davies. Essie knew how to survive, and food meant survival, and she wanted that food right then.
“I want that candy over there, too. Those mint sticks,” she said, nodding at an almost empty jar on the far end of the counter. A sign in front of it read 2 coin. Essie didn't know how to read much, but she did know her numbers. Numbers were important.
“Fine,” said the butcher, reaching over to pluck the remaining candy from the jar. He slapped it on the counter, and with a grunt, he held out his hand.
Essie eyed the door, taking a step toward the counter, ready to snatch up the food. Could she make it away in time?
“Don't even think about it,” the butcher said. He crouched down and stood again, bringing with him a heavy shotgun. “One shot and that's it, kid. Now, make good on your end of the deal.”
Essie unclasped the bronze chain from her neck, reaching up and dropping the necklace on the counter. Immediately, the butcher swept it away, putting it in his apron pocket.
“Take your stuff and go,” he said, turning away, and for a change, Essie did exactly as she was told.
She'd brought the food back to the Mansion, sneaking it in her bag past Cam and the older gang members. She, Kitt, Bea, and Mace had eaten well that night, and Essie waited until the other two had fallen asleep to share the mint sticks with Kitt.
I tag @coruscas @focsle @lucifers-cuvette @occorner and anyone else who wants to do this
“This is the natural knowledgegranted to us by the Lord of Illumination in order to fight againstthose who would contaminate this natural world with the corruptingforces of magic.” He said it as though he had recited it thousandsof times.
Ok I was tagged by @fayeisnowwriting @fayethesuccubus but I have no idea how this works so I used the same words. But then I found this whole thing that works well as another excerpt so the whole thing is under the cut. Anyway the words are forever and disappear. This is the one for disappear. Here is the other post for forever.
and I tag @focsle @rinnannon and @platinuumpussycat and I know more of my followers are writers so I tag you all too
After the Great Storm: Gangs of Olympia - disappear
Yosalyn entered the third floor hallway, the door slamming shut behind her as soon as she crossed the threshold.
It wasn't a long walk to the end of the hallway, but Yosalyn couldn't help but feel as though she had been transferred to some world between worlds. Her footsteps echoed over the muffled bass, and no other sounds could be heard, though Yosalyn knew that behind each door she passed were small rooms crowded with mostly teenagers deep asleep under the influence of Hypnos. The deep stage was what they called it, when they fell into an unbreakable trance that could last for hours to days. The deep stage was preceded and followed by a shallow stage, in which users could live out their dreams in the real world.
Was it dangerous? Of course it was. She'd heard of so and so who had a violent dream and went on a killing spree or someone else who stabbed themselves to death thinking they could flush the monsters out of their body. But Wheeze had always assured her that it was extremely rare, and she believed him. Those disappearances—just people who couldn't handle themselves. First-timers, lightweights. Nothing she had to worry about. So far, the halls stayed silent, no screams of terror sounding out from behind a closed door, no crazed druggies running from room to room covered in blood. So yeah, nothing to worry about.
She reached the door, turning the knob and letting herself in.
“Heeeyyy.” A slurred voice sounded from the other end of the room. One of her friends, Demetrio Tresler, lay on an old couch, his eyes barely open as he attempted to fight off the sleep long enough to greet his friend. “We'll... talk... later...” he whispered, his head dropping as he fell into the deep stage.
“Yosa, finally.” Wheeze sat back against the couch, beckoning her to sit beside him. “Here,” he said, holding out his open palm. A single white capsule sat in his hand, and Yosalyn reached out to take it.
“Ah, ah--” Wheeze snatched his hand back, looking as Yosalyn expectantly. Yosa reached into her boot, pulling out the necessary payment. “There ya go,” he said, taking the money from her and putting the pill up to her mouth. Yosalyn took it without hesitation, and Wheeze handed her his open beer. She took a sip, the pill disappearing in one gulp.
Yosalyn sighed, sitting back against the couch.
“Guess I'll just have to dream alone,” she said, eyeing her sleeping friends.
“Nah, you don't have to do that,” Wheeze said. “Just gimme a sec, and I'll be right back.” He rose from his spot, never looking back as he opened and closed the door, locking it behind him.
He never actually took the drug with them, though he pretended to. Yosalyn had always known. The first time she took Hypnos, she had been a bit alarmed when he locked the door. But it was just “standard procedure,” he said. It was always just standard procedure.
But she never had too much time to worry as the drug took effect, and people and places swirled before her eyes, welcoming her to a world much different from her own.
