Saturday, 16 July 2011

Forever isn’t very long for people like us: Mud stained Repentance

A shadow fell over her eyes, and she looked up from the ground, still clutching her painful waist. She’d be glad when corsets fell out of fashion. Not that she’d ever admit it. The figure extended his hand, the first strips of morning sun lighting up his back. She looked up, and paled at the face. Repentance would never be easy for a woman like her.
“You... ” the woman shivered on the muddy ground, staining her perfect dress. Mud and magic had streaked her skin, her lips red, but with blood, not vanity. She shuddered, trying to stand and keep what was left of her decimated honour. The man with the hopeless eyes sighed, and his eyes twitched. It was a tiny gesture, unnoticeable to most, but to his sister, it meant so much. She hid a gasp of air again, her ribs and chest oh so very painful. But she extended her hand. It wasn’t the only chance. But she’d take it anyway. Her brother, her no longer estranged brother, her big brother, clasped the hand. A look exchanged between their eyes. They let go, and he leant down, picking her up again, like he hadn’t since they were young, too many lifetimes ago.

Forever isn’t very long for people like us: Never just a feeling.

The sky was darkening omniously. It was so utterly moronic to be out this late. But what choice did she have. She needed that amulet, and it would be too dark soon. Good for necromancers, few else, and certainly not someone in fear of attack. Because whether she liked it or not, that was what she was now. A target.  Not that they would try anything. Not in this part of the city. 
She rarely travelled horseback, but in this case she has no choice. Even if she was seen, no one would truly think it was her. She turned the penultimate corner, and narrowed her heavenly blue eyes at the sight of an abandoned military cordon. She allowed her-self a small smile at the English idiocy and their belief that they could take her country, the cradle of magic with a few mortal soldiers. Granted, they were unaware of the magic. For the most part.
She dismounted effortlessly and elegantly, knowing that the horse wouldn’t run. She manoeuvred gracefully through the shoddy barricade, then froze. Something had moved. No, it was less than that. It was just a feeling, but she’d learnt to trust her feelings long ago. The night grew colder and she shivered. Time to leave. As she mounted her horse, she noticed a figure on one of the buildings. A figure that might be familiar. She allowed herself another glance, but the figure was gone. She sighed. She had to take the long route now, or she’d never sleep.


at the moment most of my posts are going to be a bit higgldy-piggldy. I'm posting some of what I have now, and will tweak and tease into something better later