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[ 17. Empty ]
He felt the urge to fill it up, the empty space within himself created by the ignorance of his parents. So he acted like a rebel to draw their attention, by all means. Skipping school, stealing food from shops and fighting on street were just a part of bad things he did, but all was fruitless. They never put their eyes on him, never once. Not when he had a fever, not when he bandaged himself, and not when he was nearly dead.


Quest Complete Reward:
Treasure trove found! As you step inside, a chest pops open! You open it right up because that's pretty much what you do with treasure chests in games.

+1 level
+ 1 loot card

Now she is smaller, now she inhabits a tiny body that is shaking and covered in cuts and blood that is half her own and half not. Her fingers scrabble against the metal, try to pry it back as best she can but a set of arms wrap under her small body and pull her away.
Its ok they tell her, but they are lying and they pretend not to see how hard she is crying. They wrap her in a blanket and try to bandage her, but she will not stop shaking, even when the largest man crushes her to his chest.
Its not ok, they are gone and they will never come back.
She cries for the next three days, no matter what anyone says or does.

Hope.

It was such a small word but it held so much power.

Hope is what kept people going. It's what brought groups, countries, nations together. It was in the eyes of small children. The hearts of men and women. She had felt this once. This hope. But most of the time these days Wykid had little hope for much.

There were things she could obtain in the now, but as for the future. Well with the way they were now there was perhaps just a little hope. A bit, perhaps just enough to bolster the Clans' resolves and retake their island homes. The thought of that, the possibility of that, was the hope that many of her fellow Clansmen held.

But it was not a hope that Wykid had herself. Sure it would be nice to return to her warm, desert island home. But hoping for what they had in the past was not constructive. Obviously if they went back to the way it had been then they may have just ended up repeating what had happened once more. No, they had to hop for a different future. Something better. Something that would prevent the catastrophe from ever occurring again.

Wykid could not bare going through that again.

And what if she lost Na? Once and for all. No happy reunions after months of loneliness. No, she would not. Could not put hope in that. Loosing her family, what was left of her family she could not do it.

So she would hope for something better. Dream of days in the future where things were better for her Clan. Where she could surf the sand dunes again and bask in warm heat of the desert where she belong. Where Insanity didn't rain and monsters didn't ravage her home.

She would hope for that.

[7: Hatred]

SpringTooth wasn't quite sure what drew him back to the pool -- not after last time. Maybe it was the positive note that the memories had ended on, the reassurance of a familiar face reflected back at him from the waters in this strange place. Whatever the reason, he finds his way there again, looking around slowly to make sure no one is nearby before he leans down to peer into the pool --

_____________________

The closet is lined with old coats, fine dresses, the cream of the crop of his parents' clothing, and the result is the perfect hiding place. Here he can huddle behind layers and layers of cloth and curl down around his knees. Here his hiccups are silenced and he can swipe at his face without anyone laughing.

Without the added embarrassment of people seeing him cry, the tears can slowly turn to stewing fury and hatred. And while he might never actually act on any of it, he can at least dream of taking some kind of revenge on his peers.

[20: Wishes]

His cheeks were dry when he blinked up again, at least, and for that SpringTooth was relieved. Relieved and annoyed; he could still feel that fury boiling in the pit of his stomach, and he quickly leaned forward again to look in the water for something to dampen it --

____________________________

He is too old for flowers and too old for this game, but still young enough that it has a certain appeal.

"She loves me." A flower petal falls away from his fingers to hit the ground and he grins, just faintly, looking up to make sure that no one can see him and catch him in his wishful thoughts.

"She loves me not." This one he mashes to pulp, as if the act can keep it from coming true.

"She loves me."

"She loves me not."

"She loves me --"

He pauses, staring down at the flowers in his hand, and his eyebrows knit slowly. There is only one petal left, and instead of plucking it and dooming himself to a loveless fate, he takes the entire flower and tosses it into the stream.

Hatred for the scarelings was never something that had crossed her mind when her home had been destroyed, she found out, during their visit. No, she could not hate them. Perhaps they did have a hand in it, but it was also their own naievity that did them in.

Others would argue with her. Say that the scarelings and the humans should be hated. Reviled. Perhaps even put into slavery.

But she liked to think that if the shoe was on the other foot the scarelings would be more compassionate. Perhaps that was what they were missing. Compassion for others. They had lived so long in their own little world on their islands that when outsiders did come they were with drawn. Some were eager to meet these new comers but Wykid was sure that there was a lot of reservations.

While she had not been on the Islands at the time, she knew her people well. Though curious they kept many things close to the vest. But who could blame them. What they knew, what they were was sacred to them.

Just the same could be said about the Scarelings. Even the humans.

//DEATH