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Anya Thimes walked outside of her small home. It was simple, made of cheap wood out by the forest, a little walk away from the town. She stood there, not moving for a while, staring at the shack through long eyelashes and green eyes. Being slightly taller than the average height for women those days, her body was covered with thin, wiry muscle. She wore a simple brown dress with sandals on her feet, nothing close to the style of women with money. With arched eyebrows, she looked back at the house she lived in, and thought with bitterness, It’s not the ideal home, but it is shelter. Anya, her dark brown hair pulled up into a loose bun, finally walked past the houses into the town square of Hallareese, a small village built right next to the royal castle. It was here, in the square, where she started her work.
Anya bent down as a man came near her, acting as though she were merely fixing the straps on her shoe. Standing up abruptly, she bumped into him, making his small coin bag fall into an open pocket of her skirt. The man walked away without a word, not even noticing the small exchange of his money. Anya smiled, today was going to be a good day.
The sun was just above the roofs of the houses by the time Anya felt confident that she had gathered enough. She sat by the fountain to count up her earnings. About one hundred ninety-five coins. This was only from four gentlemen altogether. With the knowledge of superstitions from her childhood friends, Anya never stole from women.
Anya spied a new victim passing by. She could not ignore him even though she had just been thinking of going home. His walk screamed confidence; an easy target. He wore his sandy hair short and his eyes were a dark blue. From where she was, she could just see the smirk on his face, tugging the right corner of his mouth higher than his left. She smirked herself and went to walk past him. Just as she bumped into him,though, he grabbed her arm, twirling her around until she was in front of him; facing him. Looking at him full on, Anya got a better sight of him. His right eyebrow, which was raised carefully above his left, was perfect if not for the scar that cut in almost cleanly in two. The crooked nose suggested a breaking at least once and he stood above her at a good four or five inches.
Light stubble decorated his strong chin and lean face.
“Thieves are frowned upon here.” The man told her calmly, those dark eyes of his twinkling with mischief.
Anya raised a brow back at the boy. "You accusin' me o' crime, sir?" She said in her best commoner's accent.
"No," He leaned in closer and whispered, his breath tickling her ear. "But I do think those other gentlemen you stole from could afford to lose some change. However, I myself really do not feel up to getting my purse stolen from me.”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but I ‘ave no idea what you’re talkin’ abou’.” The lie fell off her tongue easily.
"Impressive, you are an excellent liar and incredible at faking an accent.” His smirk grew bigger and Anya slipped out of his grip quickly, no longer wanting to be there. “Wait a moment-” The stranger said before grabbing her wrist and pulling her to face him again.
"I would appreciate it if you would kindly let go of my wrist.” She said, losing the accent. Before her speech had been bumpy -the consonants being dropped in many of the words, but this one had much more formality in it; the complete opposite.
He raised his right eyebrow again, the one with a scar across it, and grinned at her. “There is the accent I was looking for.” He winked at her.
Anya felt compelled to slap him, but fought against the temptation. “Sir, let me go.” She told him more deliberately, gritting her teeth.
“Very well,” His fingers slipped from her wrist. “But one question first.”
Her eyes narrowed at him. “What is it?”
“What is your name?” His eyes were burning with some emotion Anya could not place, but whatever it was, it scared her. She looked at him wide-eyed before turning and running, ignoring his question. Anya was halfway to her home before she realized that she was still being followed.
Swinging around, she stopped. "I could report you to the authorities." Anya informed him, her breath heavy.
His reply came quickly. "I do not think they would really care."
"Let us see about that.” She muttered before turning to find the closest watchman.
He smirked widely at her and stopped her from drawing attention. “It would be best if you did not call me to their awareness, it would create quite a scene.”
“And why is that?” She asked, not bothering to keep the irritation out of her voice.
His face came closer to Anya's. "Oh, I do not think I will share that with you quite yet." His eyes twinkled.
She crossed her arms. “Then, pray tell, why do you not leave me be?”
"Seeing how I am obviously unwanted, I will oblige... For now." And with that, he walked away with only so much as a wink. Anya did not wait to watch him leave, instead she turned on her heels and walked home at a fast pace, not wanting to remain any longer and have him return with a changed mind. In the hurry that she was in, she was oblivious to the unusual amount of people she passed on her way home, nor did she spot the pair of watchful eyes in the forest bother her.
The annoying stranger still on her mind, Anya walked into her small home and went straight into the bedroom, not bothering to grab a bite to eat. Her mind was reeling with ideas and thoughts as she picked apart what had just occurred. There was one possibility that kept coming to mind and as much as she hated the idea, she had to acknowledge that this was the most likely possibility; her secret was at stake.
Do not act rash, Anya told herself as she thought about packing everything she owned and making a run for it. It would not have been a smart idea, especially since it all would have been last minute. She could die on the road if she was not properly ready and she had to face that she was as unprepared as she could be. Anya turned to survey the room. It had not even dawned on her how much time had passed until the light from the setting sun blinded her through a hole in the curtains. Sighing, she changed into a comfortable nightgown and fell onto her bed, promptly falling asleep. Behind closed eyes, Anya Thimes' dreams shifted between blue eyes and strange doors that led nowhere.
 Madame Superfluous · Sun Aug 19, 2012 @ 08:25am · 0 Comments |
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Things were not going as I had planned. For one, I had never pictured myself sitting in a small, cramped cage. Another, I had imagined a quick, painless death, which I should have known to be impossible for these people. My clothes were turning into tattered rags and my muscles and already little fat were wearing thin. My hair- I will not even start on that pitiful mess. The worse thing about all of this was that I had knowingly done it to myself. I knew it had been a trap; that the men would be waiting around the corner, ready to catch me as if I were an animal of great worth.
Perhaps I am, though. Perhaps I should feel special- feel important- I know he would agree.
No, I cannot act as if I could relish in the attention and no longer could I pretend that I had not seen this coming. I was behind the bars while he looked in. I should have known that this would have never worked out. Why had I said yes that fateful day? Had it been his entrancing eyes? Or perhaps his charming smile? Whatever the reason, I was pulled to him, like a magnet. Was it true love or was I just being silly? Flashbacks of those first moments were coming back to me, already hitting my vulnerable mind like daggers to the heart.
On reflection, I realize that I was stupid, I was rash, and I was naïve. There had been many signs, even warnings, of danger, yet I had taken no heed to them. Now all of our lives were at stake and I have only myself to blame for it.
Memories. That was all I had right now to hold on to.
I had heard that when you come close to death, your life flashes before your eyes. Perhaps that was what was happening to me. Death. For some strange reason, however, I am calm. I am accepting death.
Madame Superfluous · Sun Aug 19, 2012 @ 08:24am · 0 Comments |
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