In the city of Corvachia, three primary markets exist. The Merchant's Market, for the elite in Bayrond's square to trade the most lavish and exotic of materials, the Raven's Market, for weapons and poisons and other mysterious substances, and the Commoner's Market, for those forced to live in between the two ends of the city. The Commoner's Market provides basic living materials and is very simplistic in nature, perfect for the small majority of individuals not rich enough to live in Bayrond's Square, but who have enough to prevent them from needing to go to the Raven's Market.
There are also those who don't have enough to sustain themselves in a stable manner, but whom also choose to not make their money in the underground, and instead keep themselves going on the meager jobs that can be found in the dwelling areas of the commonsfolk. Most of these individuals are children who settle in the alleyways and form small communities there to survive. The abundance of these groups has grown to the point that most alleys have their own designated name and their own assigned residents.
Oftentimes, the eldest who live in these communities will alternate duties, some going to the Commoner's Market to buy food and new clothing, some watching the younger ones, a few completing jobs around the city. Being as the commoner's market is a relatively harmless place, usually one person is sent at a time to make purchases, however two came in that day.
One was a tall, lanky, dark haired boy with a distinctly oval shaped face and hooded brown eyes. Following him was a girl who went up to his collarbone, who had dirty blonde hair and two sharp Monolid eyes, also with brown irises.
"Where do you think Aurelia could have gone too?" said the girl, noticeable concern emerging on our face. The boy turned and wrapped the girl into a hug, followed by a brief peck on the lips.
"Well...she isn't here now, meaning we have to clean up her shit and get food for the kids." he scowled while saying that, clearly vexed.
"Oh don't be like that. I'm sure she has her reasons."
"Really? Alder is gone as well! They could very well have just up and abandoned us!"
"I don't think they would do that."
The boy scoffed? "Really? You know how curious that brat Alder can be. He's like a baby chick, 'specially with that disheveled black hair of his. He very well could've left us of his own volition."
"Well...he is a little bit peculiar, but that's a bit mean."
"Eh, they'll be fine. Besides, my mean words have no impact on the truth, and besides, the knight's association is sure to pick em' up. They patrol the city after all."
The girl still looked displeased, prompting the boy to try and redirect the conversation to a different direction.
"Whatever. Let's just get the food, and sit down somewhere. I wanted to spend some time with you, you know. That's why I asked you to come." He pulled the girl into another kiss.
The two then branched off to different ends of the market. The boy went to go purchase fruits and vegetables at the leftmost corner. This was the most mild mannered and docile section, but only in relative terms. The entire area was abuzz with stalls screams at each other and frustrated haggling, the fruit section was no different. It had just had slightly more efficiency. In turn, lots of gossip circulated, being as most of the stalls at this end were run by middle aged women.
"Did you hear about Martha? Apparently she got together with Fiona's husband! Can you believe that?" cried one woman, who was cutting canteloupes with abnormal vigor.
"Of course I do! I always said that woman was bad news, seeing how she lives to that filthy underground. She lives alone too! As if anyone like that could ever be normal." another woman cried, before she adopted a sweet smile and offered some watermelons to ongoing customers.
"Aren't the people in the underground commoners too? They aren't too different than us you know." quipped a more soft spoken lady, one who dealt out smaller fruits like apples and oranges.
"Just because they're commoners doesn't mean we're the same. We have stable lives, whilst most of the women there are whores!" shouted the watermelon lady.
"Still...they must have exciting lives. Getting to be with a different partner each day, not having to worry about kids or boring jobs like these. Man I wi-Oh watch out dear!"
The boy, Gale, jumped as soon as he realized he was being talked too, just in time to avoid a horse's carriage galloping past him. It was a very rudimentary thing, carried by an abnormally fat horse and driven by a very angry looking owner. As soon as his heart settled however, he couldn't help but think to himself, 'is that what they view as exciting? Cheating on their husbands?' he couldn't share the sentiment obviously, however it struck a particular chord in him which he couldn't explain.
'No, you don't have time for such things. Just buy the fruit and leave.' he thought to himself determinedly, before spreading out the widest grin he could muster and pretending as if he had heard nothing. This sociable persona was very useful here, when all the stalls were owned by mothers. Dissatisfied mothers, clearly, but mothers never the same who couldn't help but feel something towards a simple minded boy just trying to buy food.
On the other end, was where all the meats were. Roasted pigs and chickens hung by strings from the tops of stalls, grease often spurted onto people's faces due to the intensity of the chopping, children got nightmares from the sheer rage expressed by the butchers as they eviscerated meat. There was one butcher in particular who Eneri was very fond of. He was a soft spoken man despite his enormous frame, and who was gentle except when it came to his job. She liked his earnest nature.
He had his own full on shop, with paned windows and polished oak doors. When she stepped inside, he was cutting through a pig viciously, eyes alight and veins bulging. He did it with so much force she feared he might go through the forerib and split the cutting board. But of course he applied just enough to prevent his knife from doing so. The moment he saw Eneri the rage in his expression quelled and he put on a soft grin.
"What can I do for you young lady!"
Eneri sauntered over to the counter and said, "I'll take a pot of mutton please."
"Mutton, eh? Chopped I take it."
"Yes please!"
He turned and went into a meat cellar, returning a minute later with a pot filled with finely sliced goat meat so savory it's juices practically melted into the pot. Eneri's mouth watered just by looking at it.
"Looks good, doesn't it?" Eneri nodded fervently, prompting a chuckle out of him. "You know when I cut this meat I accidentally ended up slicing a piece of my finger off."
"Wait what?"
The man just guffawed even louder. "I know, crazy innit? But I remember, when making this pot right here I chopped the end of my index off." he set down the pot and raised his right hand to show an index finger that was no more than a stub.
"W-well, how do you know it was this meat specifically?"
"I remember every meat in this cellar, and how I cut it. I only dare to forget when its shipped off. It's just become a habit of mine, seeing as how I spent so long in this business."
"So...do you remember why you cut it off?"
"Why? There was no 'why', at least not one that makes sense. If I had to describe it, when I was cutting the meat it felt like I was a part of it. I've just spent so long chopping apart other animals to feed my family, that I forgot I was one of them. And that day I just saw flesh and thought 'welp gotta chop it off.' I didn't realize it was my own still the blood started gushing out. It didn't get on the meat though if you're worried."
"I'm not worried about the meat! Is your finger okay!" Eneri questioned.
"Oh it's fine. Besides, you'd be hard pressed to find a butcher not missing a finger or two. That's just how we are. When you spend a couple of decades slicing up corpses there are times when you see a person and confuse them for one too."
Eneri shuddered. "You're not gonna cut me up accidentally are you?" The old man just bellowed and patted Eneri's shoulder with his greasy hands. For the first time Eneri felt compelled to leave the shop.
Later, after the two's hands were completely full, they converged at a staircase sandwiched in between two stalls. It led to an empty house, so they figured they would just sit and talk.
"Gods, I'm really starting to wonder where Aurelia and Alder are...especially Alder! I mean, we were the ones who let him go off to see that damn nobleman's chariot! What if he got kidnapped, or lost?" Eneri muttered, her head cupped in her hands. Gale said nothing, instead staring off into the distance. "Hey? Are you okay?" Eneri questioned.
"Y-yeah" Gale stammered, trying to cover up his contemplation. Eneri clearly didn't believe him, so he decided to continue. "I don't know...it's just, I don't really miss them, you know?" Eneri urged him to go on. "It's strange, because we've known them for so long so you'd think I'd feel more passionate about this. But I'm just kind of apathetic. I guess it's because neither of us really knew them. In fact, none of us really know anything about each other, even you and me. We just befriended them because they were there and I just considered them my friends because they were in the little bubble of space we live in...but now that they might be gone forever or that they could have abandoned us, I don't care all that much."
The two shared an awkward silence after that, until Eneri tried to cut the silence with humour. "You would care if I left though, wouldn't you?" she asked jokingly. But he simply hung his head in silence. "Hey, you don't have to be ashamed about how you feel. It's not as if it's something you can control."
He didn't respond, instead pulling her into kiss. They held this one this time, practically drinking each other up. It took them at least twenty seconds to come apart.
"Wow...that might be the third best kiss I've had."
"Third? What are your first two?" Gale asked. Eneri didn't respond at first, choosing to snuggle up closer and placed her head on Gale's shoulder.
"Well...the first is our first, and the second is my first."
"You had one before me? Who was it?"
"Aurelia."
Gale's jaw dropped. "You kissed?" Eneri merely chuckled in response to her lover's amazement.
"Well, it was not exactly a kiss. Er, that's not true, it definitely was. But I don't believe there was any romantic intent behind it. We were both sleepy and she just stumbled onto me and it happened. She was half asleep while doing it, so I don't know if the intent was there or not."
"Goddammit! That's what's always pissed me off most about Aurelia. She always moves on impulse and never wants to ask anyone else's permission, unless they're Alder."
"Well, obviously, he's her brother. But still that's an interesting opinion. Personally that's my favorite thing about her. In fact it's probably why she makes more money than us."
"Or the fact that she works in the Raven's Market."
"You don't know that!" Eneri exclaimed adamantly.
"It's highly likely. She has the personality for it anyways."
"What kind of personality is that?"
"The freelancing kind. She's always usually doing her own thing and getting into trouble, kind of like Martha Wylkotz."
"What's so wrong about her?"
"She cheated with Mrs. Fiona's husband! Don't you know that?"
Eneri sprang up, nearly knocking over the ingredients they had set aside. "That's impossible! They love each other, don't they? Mrs. Fiona's always talking about him! Who even told you that?"
"Well...the ladies at the fruit stalls." Gale said sheepishly. Eneri's shoulders slumped and she rolled her eyes.
"They're always gossipping about something or the other. It's hardly worth listening to."
"I wouldn't put it past Martha honestly. I told you, she has that kind of personality. Most of the women near there do! Don't you know many brothels they have?"
Eneri slapped her in disbelief. "It's hardly their fault though! They do it to survive! That's simply how those places are designed. The women involved hardly do it of their own will."
"Well, I suppose..."
"Think of it this way. Say you have a gear, one too big for a winch and too small for a waterwheel, but it fits just right in a clock. You can't blame the gear for not fitting anywhere else, because the clock is the only place it can work in." Gale shook his head in shame, but Eneri wasn't finished. "Besides even if those rumours were true, you also have to blame Mrs. Fiona's husband."
"You're right..." silence once again opened up in between the two. Just then, a chariot rolled by, the same one which had nearly hit Gale. He brought it up as a means to reignite the conversation.
"That chariot almost killed me you know! Earlier I mean, in the fruit stalls." Eneri didn't say anything, so he continued rambling. "I don't blame the horse honestly. It feels like it's trapped in a little bubble. It doesn't know anything besides what's straight in front of it, it's not allowed to run or express itself, and it spends all it's time carrying other people and their shit."
Eneri raised her brow. "Well I think horses are majestic creatures." She immediately returned to her pout after that. But Gale scooted closer and placed his hand on our shoulder.
"I agree, but not here. They can't really be majestic if they can't run. Instead they're just cooped up, completely ignorant of everything around them. Like dead men walking. They don't have true friends to make their lives better."
"They have their owner. They have the other horses in the stables."
Now it was Gale's turn to be exasperated. "The other horses are just the same. If they have any friendship it's just because they're all stuffed into the same tiny box. They don't know where the horse next to them comes from, or how fast the horse across from them can run, or anything like that. Also, the owner? Considering how they get treated here I would pay to find a horse who genuinely cared about its 'owner.'"
Eneri giggled. She tried to stay mad at Gale's apathy from before, however his passion about this random tangent amused her.
He picked up on that and decided to keep going.
"Besides, for all their beauty, with enough whips or swords you can kill them easily."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Eneri cried, irritated once again by what her lover was saying. He simply shrugged in response.
"It's true. They don't have anywhere to run, and if the people whose things they carry decide to hurt them, there's nothing they can do about it. It's just a sad existence." he paused, letting Eneri mull his words over a bit. "That's why I'd rather be a crow or a raven."
"Why would you want to be a crow?"
"Well first of all, crows can't be killed with swords or spears, they're too fast and too light. Second, they get to take whatever they want-"
"I thought that's what you hated most about Aurelia?"
Gale bit his lower lip, surprised to be called out on his hypocrisy. "Well, to be completely honest, It's more than I'm just envious of it. I hate it and admire it at the same time. And if I had the choice, I'd certainly rather be a crow than be a horse."
"But don't crows have hierarchies? It's not as if your completely free even if you become one." Eneri commented.
"Well, I'm more free than if I were a horse. The only weight crows have to carry is their feathers, and those feathers help them to fly. Besides, even if crows have hierarchies and all that, they're different from horses because they're actually intelligent."
"What do you mean?"
"Well think about it. The crows get to feed on the horses, and the bugs, and whatever they can take for themselves. Horses just eat grass that's fed to them by their captors."
"Still, the best crows can do is feed on small things and dead things. When a bigger crow or a bigger bird comes along they can't do anything about it. So why would you want to be a crow?"
"Because this is Corvachia, obviously. Out here a crow is the best you can be."
Elesett Álmodozó was a knight. He was a man of average height, with dark skin and almond shaped eyes. His irises were onyx black, his hair was curly and his face was dotted with freckles. What was most impressive about him, was his musculature. He had a sculpted body with glistening abdominals, pulsing triceps, and a sturdy back. However despite how physicall imposing he was, he made for a rather poor fighter.He was hesitant to swing a sword and in single combat was quite ineffective. There was a running joke amongst his squad that he was the perfect of example of why to not judge a book by it's cover. Their latest task, had only solidified the truth behind that notion.Before them, lay a sub-human of the Dalkyvith kind. The creature ran a small pub and was quite well liked despite his appearance. He had a bloated belly and stubby legs meaning he couldn't move very well. He was six times the width and three times the height of an average human after all. His skin was red and warty li
Following the discussion, Ardos strutted around Bayrond's square and even some of the surrounding areas of the city, attempting to observe it more closely. He noted the elaborate bridges stretching across the canal, the geese which fluffed their feathers and chatted in their strange tongues as they drifted across the water's surface, and even a couple boats cutting through the man-made river. The boats carried a variety of spices and artifacts from distant lands, catching the eyes of many. It was a much needed distraction for these people, who often found themselves looking at Ardos. He simply had a presence, one which shone from amidst his cloak. It was quite frustrating indeed. Funnily enough however, the boats, despite their size and grandeur, never actually left the city...nor even the square for that matter. They were created solely for the purpose of showcasing the variety of materials merchants often collected from distant lands. Despite its wealth of merchants and businessm
The moment Alder's shoulder was touched, he recoiled instantly. In his heart, was a primal fear which raged inside off him. The image of the man who touched his shoulder flickered with that of the one who had attempted to grab for him at the canal. His breathing became heavy, and his vision clouded. He was terrified, so utterly terrified of that figure. The figure of a slim older man draped in jewelry, extending towards his body. But no, the intent was different this time, and Alder could feel it. He forced himself to relax his body and curb the panic that had begun to build. "A-Are you a prince?" He asked meekly. When he asked that question, there was no particular intent behind it, no focus nor meaning. It was simply the first thing he could conceptualize with his innocent, simplistic mind. He uttered the words shakily, uncertain of the response it would bring. To his relief, the man smiled, a genuinely warm smile, and took back his hands so Alder could lay eyes upon his face. I
Aurelia regretted hitting Alder as soon as she did it. The way his face rolled around upon contact, the look in his eyes in the short fraction of a second between getting hit and passing out, all of it unnerved Aurelia. She didn't have a choice, they had to move before they were found, but she regretted it all the same. But before she could give in and let herself break down even further, she grabbed her cheeks firmly and focused. 'Don't be weak, you have stuff to do. You can worry about the sentimental shit later.' With that resolve in mind, she leapt from the ground, peeling her eyes away from her fists, and ran towards the tent. She didn't have time to reminisce, she simply had to grab as many sleeping materials as she could. The blankets, the pillows, anything that would provide at least a base level of comfort whilst they attempted to relocate. She had no time to focus on the cooking materials, nor the storybooks, nor the toys. Because to do so would be to bring her back to th
It had always been a joke amongst Raymond's friends back in the old days, that he was no different from a mage. He'd had always an abnormal eye for details, so much so that it seemed divine. Every coin traded, every bottle drank, every breath those around him took. He perceived it all at once, constantly updating and accounting for the changes around him. He acted careless, but that act simply served as a veil for him to observe every movement around him. When he walked into the Jumping Snake Bar, he made sure to pay attention to every order that was made, every movement those around him made, and every time a glass was raised to someone's lips.It was not something he had been born with, but a habit he had accumulated due to years and years of observation and experience. His skepticism had been sharpened over decades by the whetstone known as trauma, and left in its wake a man who questioned every thing he saw. Scars still ached on his body to this day, and their presence could be fe
Ardos dreamt of hollyhocks. They were purple in hue, lighter than the coloration of Alder's eyes but distinctly purple nevertheless. In the dream Ardos was a dove, idealistic and free yet trapped in a cage of gold. The cage seemed to merge with the shape of a room, in which he could see multiple other birds and symbols and flowers. The level of vivid detail disoriented Ardos. He had never done well amongst large gatherings of people or objects, and much rather preferred to be in silence and simplicity. Despite it's vibrance and effulgence, it held a gloom to it which Ardos could not shake. It was a blissful nightmare which was impossible to rouse from. But such a term could be applied to everything in Ardos's life. It was a haze of color and sound which Ardos so willed to expunge. But unfortunately, it was the reality he lived in, and as such he had no choice to adapt, whether he liked it or not. He adjusted his eyes to the scenario in which the dream was taking place, attentively dr
After meeting with Lysander, Aurelia had spent the rest of the day relaxing with Alder in a new home he had secured for them. It was a full two story house on the edge of the underground, and was made of oak. The polished exterior revealed a very homely interior, with a cozy little fireplace, two sleeping quarters, and a basic kitchen made of stone. Aurelia had lived in a house once, with her parents, before they were killed. But she hardly remembered it, so by all means this was the first time she had truly lived inside a house.The pillows were stitched with flower patterns and seemed to stay consistently cool, allowing the rest of her body to embrace the warmth of the woolen blankets. Aurelia slept for the day's entirety, letting her body melt into the mattress and revel in the bed's embrace. Not a care passed her by during those moments of comfort, for she was enamored with the bed. Not the idea of the bed, or the feeling of sleeping, but the bed itself, in which she was able to f
He was bound. Bound from speaking, bound from moving, bound from even seeing. Submerging him in darkness. Darkness like last night, darkness like the scary places he had wandered into for the first time. His throat was raspy and his stomach yearned for something, anything, to satisfy his hunger. He flailed about, trying to create some semblance of motion, trying to defy the invading, violating abyss which manifested in his mind. He could not imagine anything, for if he dared those vivid memories of last night would crawl back into his conscience and rip him apart. Yet by doing nothing he could not fight them either. For the faces, the corpses, they all began to emerge around him in the emptiness around him. All he could feel was the solidness of a chair, and the itchiness of floor against his bare feet, tying him to this solid world. He used to hate chairs, especially ones as uncomfortable as this. But now, his greed had been stifled. His perceptions had become more complex, and the
Not good enough. These words were lacking in understanding, this tone without spirit, this ink devoid of passion. Had such a speech really come from the hands of Ardos's pen? Was this really how he intended to impart himself on this city?What arrogance. The kind that could only be presumed of a man who did not know the city of crows. Who had not yet seen the sight of a boy choking on poisoned air, who had not been able to save a child from assault, whose eyes had not been accustomed to seeing corpses strewn on the ground. Corpses which looked like him, which had his same sheltered eyes.This place wasn't just a city shrouded in shadow, but one carved in it. The shade extended everywhere, to this house, this desk, to everywhere but his feet. The only one exempt from it entirely was Teresa, but she was a miracle which defied expectations. One protected by the hands of the god who sheltered her and the crest which marked her fate.As long as she was pure….nothing else mattered; but no,
Pale skin, now caressed in the reaper's hands. Clouded eyes, now empty. Golden locks, no longer flowing by her own will.Lysander saw the woman's corpse as it was extracted from the brothel. Lodged in her chest was a knife, her hands fixed upon it, unmoving.She had killed herself, abruptly. Suddenly. Without apparent meaning or buildup. Did she pine for the world beyond this place so much? Was she so burdened by sorrow that she chose to end it all? Did he bring this upon her through cursing her with his drunken touch?These questions raced through Lysander's head like arrows strung from an invisible bow. One chiseled from yew bark perhaps.It didn't matter. These thoughts needed to be discarded from his mind. The reason for her death was insignificant. Just more oil to the flame that swelled in his chest, another phantom on his back.But he couldn't help but wonder. It was a wisp of a thought, but it perplexed him. The mystery of what she was living for. Her eyes had been mystified,
Before his eyes could process, before his ears could catch the spilling, before he could feel the liquid as it distorted his solid world, he smelt the blood. Like copper from deep under the ground. It was familiar to him, for most coppers he had seen came dyed in crimson. Crimson, the color of revenge. Only he had yet to feel such a sensation. Like an arrow it emerged from the depths and struck his soul, penetrating it with a smell reserved for coins. He liked copper, for it gave him power over the rats and the dark things. Not as much power as gold, but gold burned. It held a desirable yet insatiable luster, but not one which could be grasped yet. No, for now he would settle for copper. Intermingled with the coin's complexion was satisfaction, but not enough to be called nourishment. He hated that word, for words had power over the hearts of man, and a word like 'nourishment' was especially dangerous. So were all the other words engraved into gold, for they could not be bound to the
When it was all over, Alder could not help but stare at the knight's corpse. The sight brought to him a tinge of disappointment. When they came every two months to ask for payment from the older boys and girls they seemed so menacing. Alder had known not what they intended to do, but their presence just felt so...distinct.'Where was that impression now?' he asked himself. Perhaps that quality came not from them, but from the armor they wore. The scene in the alley is what happened when a weakness was found in it, and this was what happened when they were without it entirely.He rose slowly from the ground, trying to pull himself away from the grotesque sight, but he kept being pulled back to it. It was entrancing in its repulsiveness, like some sort of dark message from god himself.He still remembered the cold feeling of the stones in his hands as he threw them. It was invigorating, as if some spell had been cast upon him.'What are you so happy about?' he thought to himself. The si
The sound of cheers disrupted Alder from his spiral of thoughts. They came suddenly and with great force, a sledgehammer to his ears and a liberator from his mind. He sprang up instantaneously, afraid for where such sounds came from. Outside his window was a massive gathering. At least a thousand or so odd ruffians, bordered by several well dressed individuals comprised the crowd.They were all clapping and cheering at the sight of a singular individual atop a stage. The man appeared rather unremarkable. His clothing was of high quality and his appearance quite polished, but that came with a rather average build and appearance. His face was not even showcased, for he hid it under an ornate mask. What could be so praiseworthy about a man behind a mask?But yet he was celebrated all the same, and with great intensity too. It was remarkable...as if he were some sort of god amongst men. Just looking at him was enough to dispel all Alder's doubts and fears. He wished the moment could last
From his oversized closet of a room, Poelle could hear the drunken ranting from his father as if it were happening right in front of him. He had been too lazy to come witness the speech, but Poelle was hardly surprised. When his wasteful wreck of a father wasn't cursing or beating him, he was ranting about bygone times and drowning himself in mysterious substances. Strangely enough, he hadn't touched Poelle in quite a few days. In fact, he only had one noticeable welt on his abnormally skinny body now. But Poelle hardly cared...how could he after all? That man was an animal, an inhuman beast trapped inside a sack of flesh. His bat-like features only accentuated that. And yet despite his hideousness, Poelle's mother, a human had fallen in love with him. Yet he still dared to curse her name? And hurt the son they had birthed together? And waste himself away whining about his heritage and the distant lands to the South from whence he came. It was pathetic. When he was younger Poelle
Lysander commanded respect with every step he took. He had changed into a white coat with a flaming red Phoenix embroidered on the back. He looked truly like a savior, one prepared to rebirth this city from the ashes and reform it anew.Yet, despite his appearance the presence he seemed to cast in Aurelia's mind had become slightly clouded due to doubt. She still had faith, but part of her was skeptical. She had been told very minimal information about what Lysander's plans entailed, and she had simply chosen to trust him due to the salvation he promised.'Stop it. You've always been easy to change things up. These last several days have done nothing but solidify that. Just show a little follow through goddamit! Have some faith!' she followed this thought with a spit, and by doing so cast out all doubts she had from her mind forcefully. 'Besides, you can ask him about the specifics after the speech. Just do your job and get moving.'"So, Aurelia...what happened to your contacts?" Rans
He was bound. Bound from speaking, bound from moving, bound from even seeing. Submerging him in darkness. Darkness like last night, darkness like the scary places he had wandered into for the first time. His throat was raspy and his stomach yearned for something, anything, to satisfy his hunger. He flailed about, trying to create some semblance of motion, trying to defy the invading, violating abyss which manifested in his mind. He could not imagine anything, for if he dared those vivid memories of last night would crawl back into his conscience and rip him apart. Yet by doing nothing he could not fight them either. For the faces, the corpses, they all began to emerge around him in the emptiness around him. All he could feel was the solidness of a chair, and the itchiness of floor against his bare feet, tying him to this solid world. He used to hate chairs, especially ones as uncomfortable as this. But now, his greed had been stifled. His perceptions had become more complex, and the
After meeting with Lysander, Aurelia had spent the rest of the day relaxing with Alder in a new home he had secured for them. It was a full two story house on the edge of the underground, and was made of oak. The polished exterior revealed a very homely interior, with a cozy little fireplace, two sleeping quarters, and a basic kitchen made of stone. Aurelia had lived in a house once, with her parents, before they were killed. But she hardly remembered it, so by all means this was the first time she had truly lived inside a house.The pillows were stitched with flower patterns and seemed to stay consistently cool, allowing the rest of her body to embrace the warmth of the woolen blankets. Aurelia slept for the day's entirety, letting her body melt into the mattress and revel in the bed's embrace. Not a care passed her by during those moments of comfort, for she was enamored with the bed. Not the idea of the bed, or the feeling of sleeping, but the bed itself, in which she was able to f