Christiana
03-18-14, 11:27 AM
The winding wind whispered words of redemption. Apologies were thrown through the tiny room. His eyes plead for forgiveness. His lips quivered as a tear ran down his cheek.
"It were a mistake ma'am. Just a mistake. The boy didn't mean any harm." Sandy brown hair that matched his son sat atop his twisted features. "He's just a child."
Her grin widened as she considered his words. Her voice became soft, "how old is the child?"
A glimmer of hope lit the small man's deep brown eyes. "He's only thirteen, miss. Just a boy." His words were rushed, desperate. His face turned upward, no doubt looking at the limp body of his only child as he hung from the rafters by his wrists. The child was alive. At least for now.
Christiana turned and raised her own eyes to the boy's form. A few bruises adorned his arms from the capture, but otherwise he was a healthy young specimen. Certainly more fit for life than his father. "And what of his mother?"
"Dead ma'am. We're all each other has. Please," Tears ran down his face once more. "Please don't take him from me. He's a good boy, just hungry ma'am. We're all of us about to starve. Your coin-purse is safe, I promise we won't be any more trouble."
"Silence!" Christiana's smooth alto broke for a moment, replaced by a shrillness rarely shown. She gave a half-grin, "perhaps the boy has some potential after all. I mean, at thirteen, he can hardly be held accountable for his ignorant actions."
The father's body softened and tears ran anew. "Thank you miss, thank you. I promise he won't be no more troub--" His words were interrupted with a flick of the woman's wrists. A rope appeared from nothingness and bound his arms before lifting him to his own perch near his son. The man wriggled, his screams even louder than the boys had been hours before. They echoed through the empty barn as though he hoped someone would hear his pleas.
Christiana laughed. Why did they always think someone would come to save the day? The idea of heroic passerby storming in to help the innocents had always amused her. She waited patiently as he began to lose steam. Soon his cries turned to crying, soft broken tears.
"I suppose when a child misbehaves the parent is to blame." She pulled her sword slowly from it's sheath and with a quick movement shoved it through the man's heart. His body rocked back and forth as blood began to pool from his lips. His face filled with fear. Then pain. Then acceptance. Then nothing.
Her face lit up with the joy of the kill. One less soul to fight against for glory. She retrieved her blade and with a quick slash broke the ties on the boy. He fell to the ground with a sickening crack. He would not wake soon.
The woman untied the coin purse than began it all, throwing it at the teen's feet. At least once he woke he could eat. With that, Christiana left the filthy barn, her good deed for the day done.
"It were a mistake ma'am. Just a mistake. The boy didn't mean any harm." Sandy brown hair that matched his son sat atop his twisted features. "He's just a child."
Her grin widened as she considered his words. Her voice became soft, "how old is the child?"
A glimmer of hope lit the small man's deep brown eyes. "He's only thirteen, miss. Just a boy." His words were rushed, desperate. His face turned upward, no doubt looking at the limp body of his only child as he hung from the rafters by his wrists. The child was alive. At least for now.
Christiana turned and raised her own eyes to the boy's form. A few bruises adorned his arms from the capture, but otherwise he was a healthy young specimen. Certainly more fit for life than his father. "And what of his mother?"
"Dead ma'am. We're all each other has. Please," Tears ran down his face once more. "Please don't take him from me. He's a good boy, just hungry ma'am. We're all of us about to starve. Your coin-purse is safe, I promise we won't be any more trouble."
"Silence!" Christiana's smooth alto broke for a moment, replaced by a shrillness rarely shown. She gave a half-grin, "perhaps the boy has some potential after all. I mean, at thirteen, he can hardly be held accountable for his ignorant actions."
The father's body softened and tears ran anew. "Thank you miss, thank you. I promise he won't be no more troub--" His words were interrupted with a flick of the woman's wrists. A rope appeared from nothingness and bound his arms before lifting him to his own perch near his son. The man wriggled, his screams even louder than the boys had been hours before. They echoed through the empty barn as though he hoped someone would hear his pleas.
Christiana laughed. Why did they always think someone would come to save the day? The idea of heroic passerby storming in to help the innocents had always amused her. She waited patiently as he began to lose steam. Soon his cries turned to crying, soft broken tears.
"I suppose when a child misbehaves the parent is to blame." She pulled her sword slowly from it's sheath and with a quick movement shoved it through the man's heart. His body rocked back and forth as blood began to pool from his lips. His face filled with fear. Then pain. Then acceptance. Then nothing.
Her face lit up with the joy of the kill. One less soul to fight against for glory. She retrieved her blade and with a quick slash broke the ties on the boy. He fell to the ground with a sickening crack. He would not wake soon.
The woman untied the coin purse than began it all, throwing it at the teen's feet. At least once he woke he could eat. With that, Christiana left the filthy barn, her good deed for the day done.