Nyx
04-09-07, 02:16 AM
Open to all. XD
Forty years of life.
She had lived fourteen and lost twenty-six, murdered a man and plotted the murder of another. Somewhere in this world, she left a widow and two orphan boys, and they would sob with running noses, asking, oh mama, wouldn’t daddy come home today? And somewhere else, there was a mother and a father and three brothers, waiting for the precious little girl to come home. But the girl never did, not for twenty-six years.
Nyx offered the rat a greasy crumb of bread.
It wasn’t a new life, but it certainly felt like one. Master was dead. She was free. And if the elf really tried, she could almost pretend she didn’t feel the iron collar snaked around her neck.
The rat sniffed at the offering, sniffed her fingers, and grasped at the offering with wicked yellow teeth. The teeth nipped her skin. Nyx didn’t quite mind. The rat nibbled. The elf smiled. She laid the rest of the bread on the ground.
The barkeep looked at her in disgust. “That’s a rat.”
No reply.
“You know, a rat. Disgusting thing, that. Disease and all. Dirty.”
Nyx looked at him with blank eyes.
“You speak tradespeak, stranger? Hell, you talk at all? Ha. Prolly don’t get a word I’m sayin’. Unnatural. Feeding a rat with damned good food. But then, what did’ya expect? Goddamn unnatural things. You’re goddamned unnatural –”
“Are you done yet?”
The barkeep shut up, eyes flashed something threatening, and moved away to another customer, huffing at the indignity of it all. She ignored him, just as she ignored the others peering at her in naked curiosity. A dark elf looking like death warmed over, sitting at the counter of the Peaceful Promenade, it was bound it draw some attention. None approached, because her hunched shoulders and glowing eyes screamed hostility, screamed isolation.
The rat scrambled away. Nyx stirred at her drink.
How did one continue the life one left at fourteen?
Forty years of life.
She had lived fourteen and lost twenty-six, murdered a man and plotted the murder of another. Somewhere in this world, she left a widow and two orphan boys, and they would sob with running noses, asking, oh mama, wouldn’t daddy come home today? And somewhere else, there was a mother and a father and three brothers, waiting for the precious little girl to come home. But the girl never did, not for twenty-six years.
Nyx offered the rat a greasy crumb of bread.
It wasn’t a new life, but it certainly felt like one. Master was dead. She was free. And if the elf really tried, she could almost pretend she didn’t feel the iron collar snaked around her neck.
The rat sniffed at the offering, sniffed her fingers, and grasped at the offering with wicked yellow teeth. The teeth nipped her skin. Nyx didn’t quite mind. The rat nibbled. The elf smiled. She laid the rest of the bread on the ground.
The barkeep looked at her in disgust. “That’s a rat.”
No reply.
“You know, a rat. Disgusting thing, that. Disease and all. Dirty.”
Nyx looked at him with blank eyes.
“You speak tradespeak, stranger? Hell, you talk at all? Ha. Prolly don’t get a word I’m sayin’. Unnatural. Feeding a rat with damned good food. But then, what did’ya expect? Goddamn unnatural things. You’re goddamned unnatural –”
“Are you done yet?”
The barkeep shut up, eyes flashed something threatening, and moved away to another customer, huffing at the indignity of it all. She ignored him, just as she ignored the others peering at her in naked curiosity. A dark elf looking like death warmed over, sitting at the counter of the Peaceful Promenade, it was bound it draw some attention. None approached, because her hunched shoulders and glowing eyes screamed hostility, screamed isolation.
The rat scrambled away. Nyx stirred at her drink.
How did one continue the life one left at fourteen?