Knave
08-07-10, 11:22 PM
The road ahead was certain, but the future more imagination than reality, however. An urge to destroy set aside for basic greed.
The darkness still laid claim to the land, and the oncoming winter had sheered the trees bare with its wilting chill. Fallen leaves colored the streets, paving the roads in nuisances of burgundy and gold. Throughout Underwood, no respectable soul was not sleeping, not one, but of course that did not mean that the streets were as empty as they should be. Within that small logging town, a place of timber and dirt spread out within the forest, sparks from one man’s misfortune had ignited the beginnings of a journey.
Having never slept, Ace entered into the morning air before the sun deigned to show its face. Outlined by the tall wooden tavern’s dimming lights, he stood with bag on back, and broad around the shoulders. Working his wrist over his eyes, he rubbed away the sleepy tears that collected in his eyes, crocodile tears, but crocodile tears could serve any purpose. The action for show, the tears of sleep gone from his eyes, he looked honestly chipper as he stepped lightly down the steps and let the door close behind him. There were eyes that watched him go long after he had eaten his fill and said his goodbye, they watched through the crack as he vanished.
In one night, he had entered into Corone with secrecy under the moonlight as his passport, and a ship little bigger than a raft. Not thirty minutes onto land from sea, he had made friends, and while he could never say whether they would last, he had one waiting for him then and there. With the child gone, and gone for good, they had come together, he and his undead friend, on a shared interest over a candle light dinner.
Freshly fallen water splashed as Ace stepped from stairs to ground, there was a bounce in his step. When drunks were only now waking, he was without need for rest, full of swagger as much as life. Whatever he was thinking, he looked honest as he came stand in the street and look north. Previous engagement ands prior plans chained the shape shifter in mind, but free to go where he pleased, Ace had a sort of wanderlust. He looked like a friendly stray, his lips drawn back, a hungry gleam in his eye.
The corpse had robbed a man of his clothing, and found in his pocket leads for treasure, happiness in material form; happiness itself being a treasure they had coveted the map with a growing enthusiasm. On the stained paper, there way was laid out in a winding path woven into the wilds of Corone with Xs illustrating location, and addendums to nations of what they would find scribbled into the papers back. Pelts of mythical fish and gold from mythical men, the wings of forest angels and a mystery that piqued curiosity for what it all meant at the end of their road. And all they had to do was pass by a monument to the dead, and pay their respects.
“Hey, Ky,” He began, unsure of why he dreaded leaving flowers for his parents, “I don’t really feel like walking this one.” On the way to the Peaceful Promenade, over miles of land, something within him had strongly expressed a desire for transportation. That same thing detested the idea... and yet felt it needed to go, as if, 'I owe it to them...'
The way he moved was simply smooth. From his packs left pocket, he drew a black bandana, and looking suspiciously both to the left then the right, as suspicious people do, and seeing no one to suspect him, he began to tie it around the back of his head as a make shift mask. He was quite the site, brown trousers, and black suspenders, short and shockingly red hair. He had been unremarkable, and now he was striking with that single addition. Ace turned to go, and paused, remembering that he was not alone.
He lifted the hanging corner of his mask, and turned his eyes on the cloaked zombie, issuing an invitation with an oddly naughty look which bored sly. “I’m going to get a horse. Would you like to come with me?” A judge of people, a harbinger of doom, Ace knew enough to see just how much of himself he should hide.
The darkness still laid claim to the land, and the oncoming winter had sheered the trees bare with its wilting chill. Fallen leaves colored the streets, paving the roads in nuisances of burgundy and gold. Throughout Underwood, no respectable soul was not sleeping, not one, but of course that did not mean that the streets were as empty as they should be. Within that small logging town, a place of timber and dirt spread out within the forest, sparks from one man’s misfortune had ignited the beginnings of a journey.
Having never slept, Ace entered into the morning air before the sun deigned to show its face. Outlined by the tall wooden tavern’s dimming lights, he stood with bag on back, and broad around the shoulders. Working his wrist over his eyes, he rubbed away the sleepy tears that collected in his eyes, crocodile tears, but crocodile tears could serve any purpose. The action for show, the tears of sleep gone from his eyes, he looked honestly chipper as he stepped lightly down the steps and let the door close behind him. There were eyes that watched him go long after he had eaten his fill and said his goodbye, they watched through the crack as he vanished.
In one night, he had entered into Corone with secrecy under the moonlight as his passport, and a ship little bigger than a raft. Not thirty minutes onto land from sea, he had made friends, and while he could never say whether they would last, he had one waiting for him then and there. With the child gone, and gone for good, they had come together, he and his undead friend, on a shared interest over a candle light dinner.
Freshly fallen water splashed as Ace stepped from stairs to ground, there was a bounce in his step. When drunks were only now waking, he was without need for rest, full of swagger as much as life. Whatever he was thinking, he looked honest as he came stand in the street and look north. Previous engagement ands prior plans chained the shape shifter in mind, but free to go where he pleased, Ace had a sort of wanderlust. He looked like a friendly stray, his lips drawn back, a hungry gleam in his eye.
The corpse had robbed a man of his clothing, and found in his pocket leads for treasure, happiness in material form; happiness itself being a treasure they had coveted the map with a growing enthusiasm. On the stained paper, there way was laid out in a winding path woven into the wilds of Corone with Xs illustrating location, and addendums to nations of what they would find scribbled into the papers back. Pelts of mythical fish and gold from mythical men, the wings of forest angels and a mystery that piqued curiosity for what it all meant at the end of their road. And all they had to do was pass by a monument to the dead, and pay their respects.
“Hey, Ky,” He began, unsure of why he dreaded leaving flowers for his parents, “I don’t really feel like walking this one.” On the way to the Peaceful Promenade, over miles of land, something within him had strongly expressed a desire for transportation. That same thing detested the idea... and yet felt it needed to go, as if, 'I owe it to them...'
The way he moved was simply smooth. From his packs left pocket, he drew a black bandana, and looking suspiciously both to the left then the right, as suspicious people do, and seeing no one to suspect him, he began to tie it around the back of his head as a make shift mask. He was quite the site, brown trousers, and black suspenders, short and shockingly red hair. He had been unremarkable, and now he was striking with that single addition. Ace turned to go, and paused, remembering that he was not alone.
He lifted the hanging corner of his mask, and turned his eyes on the cloaked zombie, issuing an invitation with an oddly naughty look which bored sly. “I’m going to get a horse. Would you like to come with me?” A judge of people, a harbinger of doom, Ace knew enough to see just how much of himself he should hide.