Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Misplaced Title - Chapter 2

The market place bustled with life in the crisp cool morning of Venicia. The sun had just risen and the light was pale and soft, illuminating the morning dew. The low drone of constant cacophony rose from the market place. Merchants were negotiating with the lower class residents of the city who had hardly a dime to spare. Mages glided with such an air of conceit it was enough to make one sick. Their countenance reflected just how separated the social classes were. They paid not the slightest attention to the common passer-by. Loose change was flung at the merchants who meekly scooped up the coins and avoided eye contact with the Mages. They knew better than to argue the pathetically low exchange of money they received. Better to accept what was offered and live another day than to confront the Mages.

Thieves were busy at work conning merchants and pick-pocketing bags of coins customers wore off their belts. Other, more experienced thieves worked together. While one haggled away with a merchant, the second would snap a couple items from the booth while the frustrated merchant was distracted. The former would seemingly give up, unsatisfied with the prices offered. The two thieves would hit several booths a day, often switching partners every day, and then split the days earnings. What every thief shared in common was who they reported to. The Lords and Ladies in charge of each gang were shown the days earnings, picked their favorite items, and left the rest for those who earned it. This exchange was made to offer the thieves protection, and keep them safe. The gang was always exchanging information and keeping tabs on what was happening throughout the city. Rarely were the Lords and Ladies found out in crowded areas in the day. There there were crowds, there were Mages, and even the strongest didn't stand a chance against them; not since the war and genocide that took place a decade and a half ago.

Clovis looked a mess. His flame red hair hung in thick tresses, stuck to his dirt and sweat covered face. What once looked a high class outfit now was torn and stained. His stark white top hat was obliviously tilted to one side. His white vest was unbuttoned and splashed with dirt. The cuffs of his pin-striped black dress shirt were torn open, and his shirt wasn't tucked into his matching slacks which were starting to become tattered and frayed at the bottom. His once white leather gloves were now patchy brown, though the small jade colored stone embedded into the palm of his right glove remained unscathed. His face showed a combination of disgust and conceit as he strode through the market place. His pale complexion was marred by how intensely flushed he appeared. He flashed his piercing emerald eyes at the passer-bys who couldn't help but stare at this disheveled fellow who walked naturally with the elegance of those highly education and of upper class. He was not one to know how to be inconspicuous, and he was walking amongst those who made it their profession to be such.

He strode along, becoming increasingly perturbed by his growing hunger. Being hungry was not something he was yet accustomed to. On the contrary, he was once used to having food before him within a minute of him pondering whether or not he was even hungry at all. Now he wandered from shop to shop, inspecting each bakery for its cleanliness and quality. He ignored the irony that he bothered to inspect what shop he intended to steal from. The longer he waited to take, the stronger his hunger became and the more patient he grew. Clovis certainly never was one for patience, either.

Finally, he entered a bakery whose fragrance of fresh bread permeated out into the market. He entered the store and admired the different hand crafted loafs of bread. Once the baker was busy with a couple more upper-middle class customers, who could afford his baking, Clovis reached out to take a large, fluffy roll. A hand suddenly reached out before he could even land his own hand on the chosen prize. He started, sure that he hadn't been watched. He caught the eye of the young woman whose hand laid on his arm. She smiled a beautiful and gentle smile and handed him a loaf of bread. Caught up in his hunger and her beauty, he ignored his pride for the moment and accepted the offering. They walked outside, and he started to eat slowly, in small bites, keeping his gentleman demeanor.

"You draw too much attention to yourself, to steal from such a nice store, sir," she stated, looking at him with genuine empathy shining in her eyes. "You looked so famished, and so new here... Mr...?" she inquired shyly.

Clovis removed his top hat and bowed gracefully for her, and she in turn curtsied politely. "Clovis Dussouiae, miss. I extend a deep thanks for your kindness and discretion."

"Vercta Radley. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Dussouiae."

Clovis couldn't stop his gaze from being so strongly drawn to her. She looked like an angel in comparison to the normal filth creeping through the Venicia market place, at least for what he'd seen so far. She wore a prestine, simple, white a-line dress. It was strapless, and hugged her waist, while the rest flowed away, cut off right above her knees. A small white hat was clipped to the top-left side of her head, and a small white vale of fine mesh hung in front of her eyes. Those eyes, a perfect sapphire pigmentation they were, that shone with the clarity of diamonds. Golden, curling tendrils bounced playfully around the tops of her shoulders. Around her neck hung a silver band, the bottom top of it which was tucked protectively under the top of her dress at her chest. To complete her look, she had white mesh gloves covering the delicate features of her hands.

Clovis noticed that Vercta looked away from him bashfully; he hadn't realized that he'd been staring at her as he ate in silence. He'd been flushed already, but now his face flooded with a beat red color as he averted his gaze. He would, under normal circumstances, not have been caught dead so obviously and rudely admiring a woman's beauty, especially of one he hardly knew.

"You don't belong here, do you Mr. Dussouiae?" Vercta quizzed softly, her eyes full of wonder and curiosity.

Clovis shook his head. "No Miss Vercta, I do not. Although, if I may point out, you don't appear to belong here, either."

A small frown formed on her lips, and she shook her head, her hair swaying with the movement. "I'm afraid I must contradict you, Mr. Dussouiae. I was just cursed with favorable genetics."

As she spoke those words, a Mage glided past them. He stopped, and observed Vercta, who smiled meekly under her vale. "Girl, come here," he demanded without the slightest air of respect for her. she followed obediently, and cast a final glance at Clovis.

"Wait!" Clovis started.

She turned quickly back to him and said, "No! Please, don't ever get in the way of the Mages... you'll get us both killed." And with that, she and the Mage disappeared within the crowds and were gone.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Misplaced Title - Chapter 1

The clear night brought with it a complete absense of warmth. Raven's heels clicked loudly on the cobblestone streets, in the hollow alleys of homes that made up Venicia. The city had an ominous moan, the wind licking with perverse aggression at her slick tresses of midnight hair. Most people knew not to venture outside their homes after sunset unless in desperate urgency, but for a young woman to walk alone, with no particular direction or destination, was most certainly asking to never be seen again.

Raven walked along, however, troubled naught by the threat of darkness that lay like a suffocating mass, relief achieved only by the splinter of sunlight that splashed across the roof tops every morning. Raven's hair lay in straight, choppy layers just hitting her collarbone. Her attire was not becoming of a fashion wary woman. She clad herself in black wide leg trousers, flat light weight boots, and a black blazer to match. Though Raven already appeared strange by her androgynous styled wardrobe, what was most disturbingly captivating about her outward appearance was her eyes; the right was a pale, pure orb of gray. All of the beauty that would have been recognized by every gentleman in Venicia, however, was quickly vanquished by her left eye. Within the iris was a stain of crimson. To stare into her eye was as if to stare into a foreboding pool of blood. Often the most brave of men got shivers down their spine when caught in the impatient and challenging glare of her eye. To those naive enough to know her only as a mystery, it was rumored that she was a living gateway to Hell itself.

So beautiful a city ought to be appreciated for its splendor, thought Raven as she turned at the end of the street, no matter the danger that notoriously hid around every corner. She began striding leisurely down a hill that lead from the tight knit cluster of townhouses, to the maze of thin, twisted streets of downtown.No sooner had Raven reached the outer limits of the packed in buildings of downtown, did she hear a quarrel erupting, with multiple voices echoing off the cold stone buildings. Raven's eyes flickered upwards in a quick response to subtle movement. Tenants in the immediate upscale apartments drew their shades in an attempt to avoid getting involved. Raven clutched her gun held securely on her belt underneath her blazer and tensed. She was confident, especially for a woman, but she was not reckless or careless. Gingerly she removed her weapon, pressed herself against the wall, and inched closer to the alleyway where the scuffle was taking place. She listened tentatively so she might make out what was being said.

"What do you make of this worthless worm?" croaked a hoarse voice. The way it scratched and gurgled saliva sounded nastier than the gutter itself.

"I'd say the scared little mate is lost. Like a filthy, vermin covered pup. Disgusting waif," replied a second voice, this one much sharper and educated than the first. The thick thump of impact was heard of boot to body. This was quickly joined by a barely audible whimper of hopeless agony.

Raven took a deep breath and in one swift move, cocked her gun, raised it straight, and turned around the corner. Guns were immediately drawn and raised. "Wait, don't--!" cried the more intelligible of the two muggers. But before he could stop his ghastly partner, he had leveled his gun to shoot. However, in his drunken state of power, and probably liquor, he had hesitated and fired a shot that was far off point. Raven hardly had to move in the moment to avoid the direction the barrel of the gun was aiming. She fired a warning shot into the putrid thing's hand. His gun fell, as did he. His knees hit the cobblestones and he moaned as he clutched what shreds were left of his hand. The gurgling of his saliva as he cried gave Raven half a mind to shoot him in his throat.

"Miss Raven! A thousand apologies, my lady! Please, this man is a fool, he knows no better."

She snarled and glared menacingly. "And you always were a cocky fool, yourself, Laine. One day your carelessness will be the end of you." Her tone obviously lacked empathy or patience. There were far worse things here than two fools for thieves.Laine's face twisted into frustration and embarrassment by gut reaction before he could hide it. That was all the proof of carelessness she could take for the evening. "Make yourself scarce before I leave you out as bait for the night guards," she hissed venomously.

Before the two could clamor away, Raven held out her hand with expectation. Laine hesitated, but saw that her arterial eye seemed to start glowing slightly, and his heart sank in utter defeat to his ego and anything else he had. He searched his pocket and pulled out a leather bracelet and a piece of a bread loaf. This is what they mugged this sad sap for? Although, she had seen worse for less. She knelt down by the wheezing boy on the ground, and shook his weak hand, then said gently, "Hey, I'm Raven. Welcome to Venicia. Come with me; the night guards most surely will have heard us," while quietly equipping his bracelet. When she saw the fear and hesitation in his eyes, she added, "I might not kill you yet, but if the night guards reach you, you'll never see the sun come up again."