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 Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2010 8:09 pm
 Inclemency stood out in the market. Back home, he had seemed as natural as the snow – he had seemed to be a part of the snow – but here, swamped by Commons and foreign-looking Garrions, the shaman seemed queer and primitive. Myr reasoned that any man, garrion or otherwise, wearing a trail of white fur and bones on dyed antlers would look peculiar, it just so happened that Inclemency was the only one in the market today.
The market, oh the market, her mentor had said this would be a spiritual journey, not a shopping trip. Shopping was something she did with Eir, with Inclemency she butchered things – needless to say, Myr was thoroughly disappointed. She had been following his winding trail for a good twenty minutes now, watching with half-hearted interest as he haggled and filled his pouch with various herbs. Perhaps the only slightly amusing factor in all of this was the way Inclemency smugly walked away – always receiving a deal. Maybe it was how he looked, or maybe he was using some sort of magical influence, either way all Myr could do was admire his savvy business skills. After all, there was absolutely nothing else to admire. Needless to say, the girl was bored to the core.
There wasn’t even a single fight! Everyone was insanely peaceful; it was thoroughly ridiculous. Not a single squabble over the jewel-encrusted broche, not one man cussed over losing a bottle of alcohol. No, everyone was at ease. Everyone was civil, for god’s sake. What was wrong with this city? Myr was sure everyone must have been high, or something to that degree. Everyone was here! Garrions of all size, careers, and natures and Commons of all mindsets, wealth and backgrounds – how could none of them conflict? Someone was bound of throw a punch or make a racial slur, or insult another’s class. But no, it was horrible bland. The people were happy, the sun was shining – true, there was a slight drizzle, but nothing that interfered with the grandeur and maturity of the marketplace. Myr was going to be sick.
“Inclemency?” Clawed fingers tugged at a corner of the man’s large cape. “Could I go exploring – uh, spiritually exploring? – For a little bit, I’ll meet you back at the docks in an hour.” She flashed a smile, stood on her toes and folded her hand neatly behind her back. She was a picture of pure innocence.
The older Garrion looked at from over his shoulders, calm, expressionless, unfazed.
“And I’ll buy one of the herbs on your liiiist.”
“Fine, be at the docks in an hour.” The Garrion male rolled his shoulders and slipped off into the crowd, leaving Myr behind, a wicked grin on her face.
If there was no trouble to be found here, she’d have to create some.
She elbowed her way through the crowd, greeting the acusitory glares with a smile. Really, this sunshine-happy-tea-party of a market was getting to her. They really couldn’t be that happy all the time. Maybe they were all bewitched, enchanted – maybe they were all dead souls. Crusts of men, lifeless bodies, husks of people!
And that was exactly when Myr stumbled upon a dead body.
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Posted: Tue Jan 19, 2010 6:55 am
 Nanarn squatted behind an abandoned stall, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Zanith crouched with him, glaring at the man. He had spent the last two hours chasing after the frayed ends of his teachers shawl, doing nothing but weaving through the never ending sea of chattering, over polite shoppers. Not once had Nanarn stopped to inspect a stall. Nor had he lingered over any of the sweet smelling food stuff had surrounded them. In fact, the only time the man had seemed to ever slow from his pointless march was when they would come to carts swarmed by customers, even then Narnar would only walk slowly past the crowd, leaning in close to peer at some unseen amazement.
Quite simply, Zanith was fed up with the entire ordeal and would very much liked to have returned home sooner rather then later. What he had thought would be an exciting adventure to somewhere other the his little island home currently turning out to be nothing more then yet another exercise in keeping up with Nanarn's abnormally long strides. The fact that he’d agreed to weeks worth extra lesions in exchange for the pleasure forced feeble whimper from his lips.
“Nanaaarn, you said we were going to trade! All you’ve done is walk in circles!”.
The little complaint seemed to catch the adult's attention. He lifted his hands and began empting handfuls of tiny, shining trinkets onto the ground before him, long fingers quickly returning to fish more and more little treasures from hidden pockets. By the time he'd finished, the man was beaming.
Instead sharing his teacher's happiness, Zanith was simply confused. He’d been never seen anything like stuff that was in front of him back at the temple, and he was sure Nanarn couldn’t have possibly had time to buy any of them.
As he gaped at the growing pile, realisation dawning on him. “You stole those!”.
He’d known Nanarn had ambiguous morals, but the man had always reprimand Zanith when he’d stolen from his fellow trainees.The boy didn’t see how pilfering the jewellery of strangers was any different.
Nanarn rolled his eyes at the boy's out burst. “Well, what else do you expect us to trade with? Scrawny fish and bones of their dead?” He jabbed a clawed finger at Zanith's hole riddled skirts, “We barely have enough to keep our selves alive!”.
Zanith frowned in disapproval, “Well, What if they find out?” the disapproval quickly turned to fear as images of his teacher being dragged off in chains came floating into his head. “What if you get caught?!”
Nanarn let out a cruel laughed at the ideal. “Kid, I’ve been doing this since I was younger then you. I can look after my self”. He plucked a pair of coins from the stolen goods and tossed them at Zanith's feet. “Go buy yourself something. Just be back here before it gets dark...”.
And then the boy was alone, Nanarn having disappeared in a swirl of earth coloured robes.
Zanith sat staring down at the pair of coins. He had no idea where he was, and he knew he'd get lost if he moved. With a little sigh, he turned his head to peer around the corner of the rickety cart. He was shocked by the absolute tranquillity that greeted him. It was ridiculous and dull and it worried him terribly. In fear, he turned quickly back to his coins. It was on his next breath that he caught a taste of something that was actually out of place. The boy let out a shrill laugh at the familiar stink and sprang to his feet.
He was running, instincts already carrying him towards some unknown corpse. He ran faster and faster, pushing through gaggles of shouting children and frowning adults, moving closer to his quest. He rounded a corner in a blur of blue stained limbs and matted hair, wet stones sending his bare feet slipping out from under him.
It was as he came crashing to the ground that he saw the girl standing silhouetted before the corpse that had drawn him to her.
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Posted: Fri Jan 29, 2010 1:00 pm
Myr knew how Commons went about treating their dead bodies. Pushed ‘em off the docks or shoved ‘em in a box. They suffocated the very death out of those corpses, treated them like dirt. In reality, it was just such an utter waste – that was what really bothered the girl. If they didn’t want their grandfather or brother lurking and rotting around them, they could just give them to her. It would be a win-win situation, save the fact that the Commons didn’t – and weren’t supposed to – know about the whole man-eating thing. But if all of these tedious facts were out in the opened, wouldn’t it be better? Some sort of mutualism could occur, symbiosis, harmony - whatever. Her mind urged itself to focus back on what was currently in the opened crowds: the dead body.
It was a pathetic looking thing, mouth twisted into one that expressed sheer agony and bitter pain, eyes bulging and dark. He was probably a drunkard – shabby clothing, dirty face, unkempt hair, he was someone no one cared about. Someone that no one had bothered to shed a tear for, someone that was being ignored by every passing face, as if this sort of thing – a dead man rotting in the streets – was a perfectly normal event. It baffled Myr to some extent. Why was she the first to notice him? Or rather, why had no one else paid any attention to this sack of flesh and decaying organs? His shirt was clean with no one trace of being prodded on stepped on, so clearly someone had noticed him, right? If he had gone unnoticed one would’ve trampled straight over his carcass. It was a most peculiar case, Myr thought, which happened to be the one of the few definite thoughts she could have on the matter. The man was dead. This was strange. Those two statements made up the girl’s only facts. If Myr had been a detective, she wouldn’t have been very far.
But she wasn’t a detective, and she wasn’t alone either.
A shadow fell onto the ground. It skimmed at her toes, oozed its way into every crack of the dead man’s face. Her eyes were torn away from the rotting flesh, snapping upwards to inspect her company. It was a boy, a garrion boy, and he looked eager. Her lips tightened and her gaze hardened – well, she had arrived here first, she had found ol’ Mister Bones here first, he was hers. It wasn’t that Myr really wanted him, he didn’t look like much of a dish and he hadn’t been a handsome man while breathing, but the fact that someone else had their eyes on the carcass was enough to make the garrion girl want it.
She planted a foot on the common’s shoulder, expressing her claim, while never letting her gaze slip. The girl was trying to figure out what he was. Fancy, that was for sure. He looked like he was some sort of spiritual apprentice, and his clothing had an echo of something distinct – something she should know. She didn’t, but that was the point. He was part of something important, or projected that image at the very least. Well, the boy could take his importance and use it somewhere where people would care, Myr wouldn’t have given a damn even if he had been the warrior king of some tribe or a messiah. Here in the streets they were all the same, she was just as important as he was. Maybe even more, after all, she had the corpse and he had nothing.
“What d’ya want?”
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