Topic: Hidden Corruption: Aftermath
Subject: Kids
18th Ternoth Ore, 453 E.R., Calestra, Coria
“The Sylvari bladesinger and the giant cat man creature were back-to-back,” Danny said intensely from atop a box, as he and Chora reenacted the scene before their audience, “They sliced, they swung, they roared!” The red-headed girl let out her best imitation, and Danny continued, “But the hordes of evil continued to press,” Chora waved her hand around, slashing the imaginary creatures with her imaginary blade, falling back into the shadows behind her, cast by the candlelight before them, “And soon, it seemed as though the darkness would win,” and the girl fell around a corner, disappearing from sight.
Danny let his last words drift among the small crowd of the youngest Lovers of Fortune. Though a little older than him yet, he could tell he had them captivated. Let your audience come to you, peppercorn, he could hear his father saying in the back of his mind. And when he saw them slightly begin to lean forward, waiting on him to continue, he knew they had.
“And then,” he said in a whisper, so soft his audience grew even nearer, “from the darkness they thought they would fall to . . . FSEW FSEW FSEW!” He shouted, imitating arrows flying through the air, and the crowd bounced backward where they sat on the floor--both from Danny’s surprise exclamation, and the pebbles that now came flying at them from around the corner.
“Arrows rained from the sky! Falling down into the horde surrounding the duo, giving them just a little breath, a little chance, to maybe not give in to the pack on either side of them. But was it enough?” A silence fell again, until a small voice from around the corner shouted, “No!”
And again, louder, Danny asked them, “Would it be enough?!”
“No!” the crowd called back this time.
“Lucky for them, they had one of the Scarlett Mistress’ own to back them up!” The group cheered at the sound of Shinara’s nickname, “Again, from the darkness that surrounded them, a tall, graceful, beautiful, half-Sylvari, thief--and our big sister--” Chora popped her orange-head from around the corner to join Danny in smiling and waving proudly at their audience before disappearing once more, “rushed through the small path she had created with her arrows, ran up the cat beast as though he were a ramp, and flew into the air, only to come crashing down upon the bad guys! Daggers shredding all who were unlucky enough to stand in her way! Kithran Aldeath!” He shouted, hopping off the box in time for Chora to run out and use it as an imaginary cat man, launching herself nearly onto the crowd, and swinger her arms around, stabbing wildly at the imaginary evil foes that had surrounded her sister.
Danny hopped back onto the box, “Our sister Kith stabbed stomachs, legs! She swiped legs, pierced eyeballs and cut out tongues!”
“Ew, Danny,” Chora said, pausing for a moment in her swinging to catch her breath and glare at her brother. The young crowd, hiding their own disgust, giggles at the scene.
“Shhh, Chora!”
“You didn’t say she did all that when we practiced!”
“But she did! Just keep going!” And Chora continued, “Because of Kithran, messing with their foes here and there, knocking them off balance, catching them off-guard, the day, and the lives of the ferocious Kazari and incredible bladesinger, were saved.”
Danny jumped down from the box and held hands with Chora, as they both bowed before their applauding audience.
Danny and Chora absorbed every word their father had told them of their sister, from what he had learned in his afternoon with the Kazari and the bladesinger. While they had been disappointed that they couldn’t have also met the bladesinger because she wasn’t feeling well, their eyes had lit up at the news that their big sister actually knew one and was friends with one.
All of their lives they had been inundated with the stories the Lovers had told them when Serah let them run around the Long Gamble. Their father’s stories of her childhood had been funny--their sister getting caught for one thing, but tricking everyone by actually hiding the real thing--and Serah’s were sweet, what with how smart Serah thought she was, and how nice and sad her relationship with her late mentor, Tara, had been.
The Lovers stories, however, were always exhilarating--and not just the ones in Calestra. Coria City, Elanfalee, Ethryn, even the ones in Felarin had stories of their sister climbing things she should not have even touched, sneaking into places she should not have breathed near, and falling through the rooftops of people far too wealthy to even look her way.
Those stories, they knew inside and out. They had begged to hear them over and over again. But now, they had some stories to share, and the young and older Lovers of Fortune were the ones now begging for more.
Danny and Chora skipped home that night, laughing and reenacting their favorite parts of the story as one of the older Lovers ensured they made it back safe. It was the third night and third story they had shared, but one of their favorites. They didn’t have many more left to share, but they were looking forward to retelling them again and again.
Eventually the two settled down into a walk, looking down and admiring the sparkling circle of stars, of varying shades of red, pinned to their collars. The symbol of Shinara. A gift received upon their acceptance as Lovers of Fortune. Kithran had been one of the youngest to join at the age of ten. At nine and eight, the youngest Aldeaths now held that crown, however honorary it might be for now.
“Do you think she’ll ever come and meet us?” Chora asked, looking up from the pin at her black-haired brother. Everyone always said he looked just like their sister, but Chora always found that kind of funny, since he was a boy. Regardless, she did feel a pang of jealousy. With her red hair and freckles, she had taken after their mother for the most part. Except when she smiled.
“Yeah, of course she’ll come and meet us! She just didn’t know about us, and then she got lost on their last adventure. But when Araw . . . Aran . . . Ara feels better, she and the cat guy and their friend with the shield,” Danny hops down into a defensive stance, pretending to hold up a shield, “And their friend who can control light, they’re gonna go find her and bring her here so she can meet us!”
Chora sighed, “It’s going to be so long though. Why do they have to wait so long? What if our sister gets more lost the longer they wait? What if she can’t get back?”
Danny was quiet for a moment. This was something he had worried about for some time as well--at least for the last few days since their father had told them about it. He pat his little sister’s back, “It’s okay, Chora. She’ll come back. You met Ch’dau! There’s no way anything will get by him, let alone all of their other friends!” He gave her shoulders a little squeeze, “Just remember to keep reminding Shinara to keep giving her luck.”
“Be persistent?” Chora smiled, echoing their father.
Danny smiled back, “Yes, let’s be persistent!”
And the young Aldeaths found their way home.
Posted on 2019-12-16 at 18:46:10.
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Topic: Hidden Corruption: Aftermath
Subject: Past and Present
13th Ternoth Ore, 453 E.R. – Dawn
Ch’dau and Aranwen’s Camp
Ch’dau had risen before the sun, found his way into the back of the cart, and rummaged through their remaining supplies to gather something of a breakfast for Aranwen. Some dried fruit and nuts, a bit of salted fish, and a half a loaf of bread would have to do, today… at least until he got back from the market. Provisions gathered, the gray kazari stoked the embers of the campfire back to flickering life, heating what he could of the repast and setting a small kettle of water to boil above the flames as he led the mules to water. When he returned from the river after having staked the creatures there, he found Aranwen huddled by the fire, tending the tea.
“You’re going into the city, then,” she asked without looking back at him as he approached.
“I am,” he said, pausing for only an instant before settling himself down beside her and stretching his paws out to the fire. “We are still a week or better from Meadowbrook and, aside from a lunch, later, and dinner thereafter,” he waved a hand at the meal he’d prepared, “We have not much more left than this.”
Her nod was slow but understanding. “You know why I can’t go with you, yes?” She turned her eyes in his direction, but not her head.
“I do,” he rumbled in reply. “I do not look forward to treading Calestra’s streets, myself, but, if we are to continue to Meadowbrook…” His massive shoulders rolled into a shrug.
“Will you be alright here, by yourself, for a couple of hours,” he asked, slicing a piece of bread from the loaf and passing it her way as she snatched up a piece of fish that had been warming on the skillet.
“Where would I go?” she sighed wearily, her muddy, golden gaze sweeping the horizons about them. “There is nothing here for me.”
Ch’dau wanted to disagree; wanted to tell her that there was more of Kithran in the city up the road than she could possibly imagine; but, at the same time, wasn’t willing to test her still tender emotions. “I am here, Ara,” he purred, drawing her gaze and weak smile with the words.
“Which is why I am, still,” she returned, leaning into him. “Thank you for that.”
His arm drifted around her shoulders and he reveled in her warmth while, simultaneously, mourning the diminishing of it. “Of course, my khat…” he reached out, snatched a hot piece of salty fish from the frying pan, and swallowed it painfully down before he could finish, “…my love,” he corrected.
He had only addressed her as khatun twice since the temple had collapsed about them, and, both times, she had vehemently demanded that he not. She no longer felt worthy of the title, it seemed, and, while he understood, he disagreed with her on that point, as well. That was an aspect of this broken Aranwen that he hoped to deal with later, though. There were smaller steps that needed to be taken, first… He just wished he knew exactly what those were…
Beside him, the Sylvari woman scoffed as she stared into the dancing flames of the fire. “Do you think you’ll trade those pelts, today,” she asked after a moment.
“There should be a market for the furs, at least,” Ch’dau nodded faintly, slipping into the easy and unimportant topics that kept her occupied… and talking… “It is Calestra, after all.”
“You can find whatever you want and more in Calestra,” Ara whispered, her gaze distant as she stared through the flames and recited Kithran’s oft repeated words.
“So it has been said,” Ch’dau answered just as softly.
“You will only be gone a few hours,” she asked, then, blinking slowly as her eyes turned to catch his, “and then we’ll be on our way?”
“Three hours,” he chuffed, smiling softly at her, before his gaze turned appraisingly to the city, “four at the most.” He snatched up a crust of bread and plucked another piece of fish from the fire. “And I shall bring you a proper meal, as well, before we break camp.”
13th Ternoth Ore, 453 E.R. – Early morning
Calestra’s Market
Wrapped in his cloak, Ch’dau prowled the market square as unobtrusively as he was able. He had traded off most of his pelts, already, and fattened his purse as a result, without drawing undue attention. He began to give thought, then, to replenishing the wares that would see him and Ara the rest of the way to Meadowbrook. As such, he wove his way through the crowd in search of those merchants, he remembered, would be able to provide such things. His pack was half filled with replenishments when the boy had run into him…
“Oh, jeez sir! I am so sorry, th-the crowd pushed me, I’m so sorry! I –”
“Do not worry, v’dogo t’mbili. This is a busy place, you would do well to mind your . . . surroun...dings…”
At the same time, the kazari and the boy blinked at one another, surprise, fear, and vague recognition flashing in both of their eyes for a brief moment.
“I-I will sir,” the boy spluttered before Ch’dau was able to fully process the lad’s appearance. “Thank you sir!” the boy chirruped, flitting off into the surging tides of the market.
The kazari shook his head as the boy disappeared and, at first dismissing the encounter as a random thing, turned, himself and started back about his business… until he remembered that he was in Calestra. His assured steps ceased, then, and his hand went to where his coin-purse should have been. When he didn’t find it where it should be, Ch’dau growled at himself and sent his eyes searching for the boy that had just picked his pocket.
He caught sight of the little footpad, soon enough, and began a determined pursuit. He was nearly upon the boy, ready to snatch him off his feet and shake out his pockets, in fact, when a little red-headed girl stumbled into his path. So intent had he been on catching he boy and regaining his purse that he had not even noticed the little orange-haired girl, at first, and, apparently, had trampled over her as he chased the dark-haired lad.
Despite the fact that a number of them had shouted their outrage at his trampling of the little monkey-girl, the humanoid crowds of Calestra’s marketplace, in general, refused to give way and threatened to trample the girl in a far worse fashion than he had. As she sprawled at his feet, screaming and sobbing, Ch’dau crouched in front of her, spreading himself out as much as he could to ensure that the rush of shoppers wouldn’t consume or crush her.
“Forgive,” he purred, offering a paw to the wailing little girl, “I was in pursuit of something taken from me and had not . . . been minding my surroundings.
Are you injured, little one?”
The tiny monkey scrunched her face at him, then, the sobs melting seamlessly into an impish smile… an all too familiar impish smile… before she bounced to her feet and raced off into the crowd much as the boy had done.
It cannot be, Ch’dau mused, rising back to his full height as sluggishly as if he were dreaming.
He blinked after the easily visible spring of carrot-colored locks as they wove through the crowd and followed, even as he pieced together the similarities and strange familiarity of each child… No… There was something of Kithran in both the boy and the girl, he realized, as he followed the flame haired child through the throng. The shape of the boy’s face and the impish smile of the little red-head… it was all too coincidental to be a coincidence… or was it?
He had nearly talked himself out of believing that these two thieving children could be, somehow, affiliated with Kithran, dismissing it as chance and circumstance, until the little girl’s flight had led him to a stall beside which hung a painted sign that read, as far as he could tell, ‘Aldeath Family Tobacco and Spice.’
Beneath his hood, Ch’dau shook his head, even as the two children tried to hide behind the flame-haired woman who was obviously their mother. “The game is over v’dogo t’mbili’I,” he snorted, almost chuckling, as he thunked up and drew to a stop just before the rather surprised looking human woman, “return what you took and nothing more need be said, hmmm?”
“What’s this, then?” the red-headed woman snipped, then, her arms instinctively going back to shield her children from the presumed threat of the massive figure before her. “Why’re you chasing my loves through the streets as if…”
Ch’dau lifted his eyes to the woman’s, then, allowing her to see what was hiding beneath the hood, and smiled softly before looking around her, once more, and eyeing Danny and Chora. “As if they have too much of their sister in them for their own good?”
Lina’s blue eyes widened at this creature that had chased down her children, confused at his mentioning of, their . . . “What are you talking about? Explain yourself”
“Your boy,” Ch’dau snorted, his head ticking to indicate the dark-haired kid standing behind her, “stole my purse. And your daughter,” the felinoid head tipped toward Chora, then, “helped him escape.
I suppose they are both lucky that I recognized family traits,” he chuckled softly, “else I might have eaten them both.”
The orange-haired woman suddenly gasps, “Their sister? You’re . . . .” Lina’s grip on Danny and Chora betray them, as they are wrenched forth from behind the protection of their mother, and shoved before the enormous cat-beast, “Give the Kazari back his purse and apologize.”
Danny’s eyes shot up to his mother’s face, “Mooom--”
“I don’t want to hear it from either of you today, you little trouble-making snap peas, we’ve talked about this already.”
The black-haired, dark-eyed, near replication of a younger Kithran Aldeath growled low under his breath as he reached into a pocket Chora had sewn poorly but effectively into the inside of his vest, producing the creature’s coin-purse. “I’m sorry mister K’sary,” he mumbled.
“Sorry mister K’sary,” Chora echoed.
Before the silver cat had a chance to correct them, Lina’s grip on the two released and she grabbed his furry forearm instead, “Please, come with me.” And she tugged him toward the side of the stall, “Randel, their, her, Kithran’s father, he’s just back here. Oh, I apologize!” she said without breaking pace, “I am Lina Aldeath, and those two wiley snap peas sneaking around in the shadows behind you are Daniel and Chorus.”
“I’m Danny!” a distraught voice called from behind him.
“I’m Chora!” a small, fiercer voice followed.
“And this,” Lina continued as they approached a man leaning over a table to trim some kind of odd, small plant, “is Randel.”
The tall man’s back straightened, as he turned with a smile at the small band come to disturb him. A familiar grin touched the mouth of the stubbled, older man, his black hair now streaked with grey, and the laughing lines by his eyes set deeper. He wiped his hands on a rag as he approached and held out his hand, “Hello there, I apologize, I hadn’t been expecting any visitors.”
Lina looked up at the Kazari, “There are not many eyes back here, would you take your hood off?”
Ch’dau’s gaze warily swept his surroundings, verifying Lina’s claims before he complied, lifting one hand to pull the cowl free of his head.
“By Fortune's favor,” Randel whispered, taking a step toward him and looking around. He looked behind the Kazari, behind Lina, tried to see beyond the corner of the stall. Eleven years, it had been eleven years and now the fabled Silver Cat of Coria stood before him, the one Serah had wildly claimed was off fighting evil his daughter and a Sylvari warrior just a year or so ago, “Where is she? Why are you here without her? Serah said you and a bladesinger were protecting her.” His voice rose, but Ch’dau could see there was no anger or threat behind his words or his dark eyes, only fear and hope. Desperate, desperate hope, “Why are they not here with you? Will you take me to her? Where is my daughter?!”
With each question in the man’s barrage, the expression on Ch’dau’s face darkened, grew sadder, perhaps, and, with a heavy sigh, the cat-man let his eyes fall away from the man. He stared at the ground between his feet for a moment, then lifted his gaze to regard each of the Aldeath family in turn before settling, at last, back on Kithran’s father. “I cannot take you to her,” the kazari rumbled, his tone soft, almost apologetic, “for I do not know where she is. We… uh… I… lost her… some weeks ago.”
Surprise took the older man's features, and he rubbed the side of his stubbled cheek, seeming to have aged another ten years in the last few minutes, "Lost her?" He nodded heavily, having shared for eleven years in the weight of those words. "But she is alive then? Please, tell us what has happened to her."
“That is a tale long in the telling, Randel Aldeath,” the kazari said, his gaze flitting to Danny and Chora, then, “and not one for children.”
Lina made her way to the brother and sister, motioning them to scurry off.
"Hey! Why don't we get to know?" Danny shouted indignantly, his dark brown eyes glaring boldly at the creature he just been fleeing from, "Kith is our big sister too!"
Ch'dau crouched down, then, and motioned the children closer with one hand as the other reproduced the coin-purse. “Perhaps you snap-pea monkeys would like to earn some of the coin you tried to steal, yes? I have need of supplies, still,” he said, smiling gently at the pair and offering the purse back, “If you would fetch me some of them while I speak to your father, I will reward you when you return.”
Chora snatched the coin-purse before Danny could even open his mouth, "We will do it!"
Danny's mouth fell open, "But Chora!"
The freckled face grinned back at her brother, "We can know later, Danny, but for now," Her grin grew mischievous as she dangled the purse in front of the boy.
His eyes brightened at the possibilities that had just risen before them, and he turned back to Ch'dau, grinning wide, "What do you need, sir?" And with the list of the Kazari’s wares, the two ran back out into the Calestra streets.
The smile on Ch’dau’s face went sadly nostalgic as he watched Danny and Chora bounce back off into Calestra’s market and, again, he sighed as he rose back to his full height and turned to Randel. “You may wish to sit,” the kazari suggested, “As I said, this is a long story and, unfortunately, not at all a happy one…”
For the next hour, Ch’dau related the tale of what had happened in Ertain, answering any questions he may have been asked throughout the telling and, at the end of it, bowed his head, again.
“…and, then, she was gone,” he rumbled, a thumb absently tracing over the scar that remained from where Kithran had stabbed him. “I am sorry.”
Randel was silent for a moment, his gaze drifting unseeingly past the Kazari, past his stall, past Calestra, back to the sound of Kithran humming absently behind him on their long days on the road. He covered his face in both hands, barely registering Lina's reassuring hand on his back, and saw Kithran's adorable glare when he had caught her trying to get away with something, her unbridled joy when he let her. "My little peach," he whispered silently into his hands, and finally let them fall to his lap, and regarded this creature who had cared for Kithran when he could not, "Thank you, Ch'dau, for your tale and for protecting Kithran as best you could."
He stood and walked to him, his hand extended once more, "I expect it is not finished, that you will bring Kithran back to us." He raised his dark eyebrows and it was clear it was more of a kindly spoken command, than a question.
Firmly clasping the man’s arm, Ch’dau nodded. “It is far from finished,” the kazari chuffed, levelly meeting the man’s gaze, “and you have my word that I will not stop until Kithran is back where she belongs.”
Randel nodded, "What is mine is yours. For all you and your bladesinger have done for our family, for our Kithran, for what you will do, there is nothing I can offer that will be enough."
The Silver Cat raised a paw, gently dismissing Randel’s generosity. “You owe me nothing, friend,” he said, “Aranwen and I love Kithran as our own and we would seek nor accept any reward for that.”
“Then it sounds as though you are family,” the merchant replied with a tight smile, “and as such the offer remains. Not a reward, it simply is how it is.” Randel paused, taking in the Kazari’s story once more, and his voice lowered, "May I meet her? Kithran was dealt several unlucky hands when it came to mentors and . . . mother figures. I can't imagine how much she must love and respect your Aranwen. I would like to meet her, to thank her."
The Kazari may have tensed a bit in reaction to that request, his blue-green gaze ticking almost uncertainly away as he considered what Ara might think should he return to their camp with Kithran’s family in tow…
Especially the boy, he thought, He looks so much like her.
After a moment, though, and with a faint sigh whispering over his lips, Ch’dau looked back to the expectant Randel and offered a nod. “Of course,” he rumbled, his ears flicking faintly, “Though, she will not come into the city of her own will and I will not force her to do so. If you would like to meet her, you will need to come with me back to our camp.”
Randel nodded once more, and turned to his wife, “Do you mind, dear?”
The orange-haired woman walked to him and took his hands in her own, “Of course, Randel, take as much time as you need.” She kissed his cheek and looked with the other two as the sounds of laughing and small, quick feet raced toward them.
Danny was sweating as he dropped the large sack of items down before the Kazari, and Chora was in a similar state as she dropped her smaller one. Both had mouths outlined in chocolate, “Here you go, mister!” Danny announced, his veins coursing with sugar.
“Here you go too, mister!” Chora said, and produced the coin-purse, tossing it up wildly at the Kazari.
Ch’dau snatched the small pouch out of the air, noticing how much lighter it had become. He gave them a feline grin, and dropped into a crouch before them, “Thank you, v’dogo t’mbili, you have honored me today with your assistance.” He poured out a few coins for each of them, watching as their eyes lit up once again at the unbelievable luck they had ran into this day.
“What do you say?” Lina called from behind him.
“Thank you!” The two shouted in unison before counting their treasures together.
Ch’dau watched their sugar-induced excitement, Chora bouncing around unable to control it, and he stood once more. “I can only assume,” he rumbled low as he turned back to Randel, “that this kind of behavior is a result of you, Randel.” And he chuckled at the merchant.
The ghost of a grin finally returned to him, “As for their sticky fingers, I cannot claim that--for these two at least I think I can blame the Lovers of Fortune for their tales of the exploits of the legendary Kithran Aldeath. There was a time no roof was safe from that little peach.” His smile became reminiscent of the arguments he had had with the little girl over her adventures, “However, the impatience, the excitability, perhaps a bit of the wit, I can proudly claim those.”
The silver cat nodded, and looked off in the direction the Sylvari woman awaited his return, “Shall we?”
Randel’s face grew grim once more, and he returned the nod, the two then making their way to the bladesinger.
Posted on 2019-12-13 at 13:46:07.
Edited on 2019-12-14 at 03:08:49 by breebles
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Topic: Hidden Corruption: Aftermath
Subject: Sticky Fingers
13th Ternoth Ore, 453 E.R. The Marketplace of Calestra, Coria
“What about her?” the orange-haired, freckle-faced young girl asked, pointing to a well-dressed Sylvari woman, who seemed to rise above most of the crowd both in stature and her own self-worth.
The black-haired boy shook his head, “No, that’s too easy. A real Lover would never pick such low-hanging fruit like that.
The girl narrowed her eyes at the boy, “Serah told us to not get mixed up with the Lovers of Fortune though, Danny!”
“Tch, Serah is so boring. Why do you think we’re here?! We’ve gotta show them that we’re ready!” He looked back out from the stalls, between which they hunkered down in the shadows.
“I thought it was just for fun.” The girl pouted, “Taking pretty stuff is fun.”
“It is fun, Chora, we’re just going to make this fun thing into an even funner thi--oh, wow, what is that?!” Danny pointed out into the growing marketplace crowd, at a figure shaded in a cloak, but imposing all the same. Where the Sylvari had been long, thin, and elegant, this figure was tall, bulky under the cover of that cloak and his pack of wares, and intimidating despite his attempts to shrink his presence.
Chora hopped beside the dark-haired boy and followed the direction in which his finger was pointing. She squinted for just a moment before she gasped, “No, Danny, no!”
Danny grinned, “Yes. Imagine what the Lovers would think!”
“You mean when we’re dead?!”
He scoffed, “We’re not gonna die, Chora. Besides,” he held up a hand and wriggled his fingers in front of her, grinning wide and bright, “when we work together, no one can ever catch us!”
His grin was catching, and Chora couldn’t help but reflect it back to him, raising her hand up to his to wriggle her sticky fingers with him, “Alright fine, but just as long as we’re not going to do Cry Bab--”
“We’re doing Cry Baby!” Danny declared and Chora dropped her hand back down to her side.
The orange-haired girl thrust her hand out at the looming man, “Cry Baby will never work on someone like him! Look at him!”
“It’ll work Chora, trust me,” he said looking back out as he approached through the throng of merchants and buyers.
Chora crossed her arms, “But it’s going to hurt.”
“But it’s going to be worth it.” Danny began to hop up and down as nervous adrenaline began to course through his small body, “Alright, you ready, cry baby?”
“I guess so,” she pouted, and dropped into a crouch.
“Try to keep up!” He said and shot into the river of people milling around the marketplace. Dodging carts, wayward elbows, and other children darting in and out of the crowd, Danny eventually found himself just behind the enormous, shadowy man. His strides were long and steady. And though he was larger than most everything around him, at least to Danny, he didn’t seem to find it too difficult to wade, in this measured way, through the dense crowd. As the boy quickened his pace, he noticed the object of his desire: a coin purse, a decently filled coin purse, hanging at his side.
His heart racing, Danny took a deep breath and shoved himself into the man’s side, releasing and pocketing the coin purse in one swift motion.
“Oh, jeez sir! I am so sorry, th-the crowd pushed me, I’m so sorry! I--” and then the boy’s voice caught in his throat, as he finally looked into the man’s face. It was no man at all. The face was massive, and shaggy, it was as though a giant tiger were staring back at him from beneath that cowl, and Danny’s dark brown eyes grew wide.
“Do not worry, v’dogo t’mbili,” the creature smiled with its mouth closed, “But this is a busy place, you would do well to mind your . . . surroun...dings” and oddly, the creature, whatever it was, its turquois eyes also seemed to go wide as well, as he looked back down at Danny.
Coming out of his stupor, and filled now with an eagerness to get away with his prize, as well as to be far, far away from this thing when it came to realize what he had done, the boy said, “I-I will sir, thank you sir!” and ran off into the sea of creatures.
Chora watched from several yards away as Danny finally fled, after waiting way too long in her opinion to do so. The black-haired boy ran by her, and sped away, as she watched the large man watch him as well, until finally he could no longer see him. He then began to continue walking in the direction he had been going, and Chora thought that perhaps he would be one of those not to notice what had been done until it was far too late. However, after one more step he looked down, patting his side and looking back up in the direction Danny had run. Chora crouched once more, watching him move her way, before suddenly and unnaturally he burst forward through the crowd. Surprisingly and ambly he was able to weave through their numbers, knocking a few to the side here and there, but hardly any slowing his pursuit.
Now it was Chora’s turn, and she had never seen anyone move like this. Like a bull through sheep. This was going to hurt indeed, but at least then it would be even more convincing.
When the time came, Chora jumped out, right into the massive man’s path. His reflexes were sharp, quick. He had almost been able to avoid the mass of orange curly hair that shot out in front of him, and perhaps he was able to lessen the blow, but Chora was still knocked several feet away, and immediately began to cry. On queue people around them began to stare, glaring both at the large man who had trampled a little girl, as well as at the child on the ground in their way. Soon the crowd began to move in again, swarming the girl, and threatening to trample her themselves.
Chora was getting ready to move, clearly having created enough of a distraction for Danny to get away, but suddenly the man was before her, still looming though he was now crouched, making his body wide so as to force people to give her more space. It was then that she noticed, as Danny must have before her, that this was no man, his whiskers twitching as he leaned down to speak to her.
“Forgive, I was in pursuit of something taken from me and had not . . . been minding my surroundings.” He offered her a paw, “Are you injured, little one? ”
Her freckled face, covered as well in drying tears, stared at the soft, padded paw for just a moment before scrunching her face and hopping to her feet, as if she had not just been weeping openly in pain. She backed slowly away from him, toward the wall of people, and a grin slowly curled the side of her mouth, her hazel eyes lighting up. The creature squinted at her, shook its shaggy head and rubbed its eyes, as if it had seen a ghost. And while it was distracted, Chora hopped into the crowd and sprinted away. She dodged all oncomers, trying to put as many of them and their wares between them as she raced home.
She did not risk the time it would take to look back, she did not want to see that creature again, whatever it was. She did not see it watch her flee. She did not notice it following her orange hair, more measured than he had Danny, through the crowd.
And she did not realize it had seen her meet her brother and orange haired mother before their family stall, the words Aldeath Family Tobacco and Spice painted on the side.
Posted on 2019-12-12 at 15:53:07.
Edited on 2019-12-14 at 02:49:24 by breebles
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What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
And my evening-evening should be free.
well done!
