How Fair this Place
By Bmv_no_Miko
Chapter One: A Whiter Shade of Pale
Is it always so hot?
Mr. 56 shifted the leather pack on his back, careful not to worry the hole in the left corner. The cracked and sagging bag had already ripped twice, and a fine mess it would be trying to carry all of the Conde Petie stuff back full of sand if it ripped again.
"If only I wouldn't keep forgetting the mending kit when I..." but he abruptly stopped talking to himself as the wind blew sand in his mouth. He coughed some and spat what he could out, frowning over his absent mindedness. Now the grit would be in his teeth the whole way back, and wouldn't that teach him to keep his mouth firmly shut? He hoisted the heavy pack again, trying to let some air get to his sweaty back and cool him down. It was never really pleasant making the trading trip, but he'd needed to go, needed to get out of the village, out of the cemetary, away from waiting for Mr. 36 to somehow come out of the ground. I still don't think he can breathe under there, no matter what 192 says. He shut his eyes with a shudder. I won't think about this. I'm out here to not think about this.
And yet it was no use. 56 and 36 had once made the same trip, only that time they were much less certain that they'd ever get anywhere. In some big city he'd awoke, and there was a body without a head in front of him. After wavering there for a moment, it had fallen, limp and mangled. In terror and confusion he'd fled. The jagged buildings and bodies all looked the same to him then, and everything radiated danger. There was such a cacaphony of noises and sick burnt smells of flesh and blood and worse sights...When a man with a kitchen knife struck at him, he was so afraid that he forgot that he could defend himself with magic. The result was the thick, half-healed scar across his left shoulder that the pack was irritating so. And then he met 36 several days later, hiding in a cave with deep wounds in his hip where a pitchfork had caught him. 36 had been running for longer, knew a little more, and had several potions that he happily shared, glad not to be alone in his pain.
Together they had stowed away on a boat, more to get away from where they were than to get to any particular destination. For days they had hidden in the storage hold. The lack of food, fear of discovery, choppy sea, and excessive vanish spells wore them into sickness and exhaustion. When the boat had finally docked, they'd fled again, narrowly missing being caught. Without water they began walking, plodding, stumbling. All they knew was that they needed to go further north, that something was calling them there. And so they'd walked and walked, blistered and burned, parched and hungry, and finally reached the village. It was the most amazing relief he'd ever experienced.
Two days after that, Mr. 36 simply stopped in his bed.
56 shivered and straightened his hat, remembering how he could get no reaction, not even a breath, out of his traveling companion and only friend. They were even sleeping in the same room, just recovering. Why just him, and not me? Will I stop soon too? He'll wake up, right? Mr. 288 had said that it was proper to bury him, that this was the right sort of thing to do when someone stopped. 56 was frantic, worried that it would hurt, worried that Mr. 36 would be scared when he woke up in the ground, that he'd think that maybe the humans had got him. It had taken the soothing words of Mr. 44 and sleepweed to get him calmed down. While he slept, they put Mr. 36 in the ground, where maybe it was cold, and maybe there were bugs...
He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly ran smack into the trees. Oh, am I here already? Blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts, he stepped into the forest...and stopped abruptly.
There was a...something...laying in the path. Magic forgotton, his left hand slowly inched to his side where 36's old knife was tucked. The smooth handle offered him some bravery. Taking shallow breaths, he edged toward the figure. A stick snapped under his foot and he jumped. Disgusted with himself, he made his way closer, his knuckles white from clenching the knife hilt. Standing on his tiptoes, he could just see its head. His stomach dropped into his feet.
It was a human.
Hand splayed over his chest, he tried to still his panicked and drumming heart. It's just laying there...it can't hurt me, right? All I have to do is step over it...like this... He pressed hard against the trees, trying not to touch it as he moved past it. But it was no good. The rotting leaves slipped beneath him, and his shaking knees sent him crashing to the ground beside it.
Gasping, he scrambled away, the backpack hopelessly ripped. Breathing hard, he sat back against a tree and tried to gather his wits. I can't go back without the stuff, not when I asked to go. Everyone will be disappointed...I have to get the things...
He swallowed, then slowly began to crawl about, gathering the paintbrushes, oil flasks, long-burning wicks, and other odds and ends that he'd been sent for. As the human continued to lay still, he grew braver and drew closer. He'd spent so long hiding that he'd never really gotten a good look at one. Wait till I tell Mr. 36 about this! Tensed to flee at any moment, he looked down into its face. Its skin was pale white and all scratched, the expression drawn even in sleep. The tightly curled and matted blonde hair had bits of sticks and leaves in it. A fly quietly landed on the human's cheek, rubbing its legs together. His blood suddenly ran cold. Is it...is it stopped...will it wake up? He trembled, somehow seeing Mr. 36 in the still expression.
But no, its chest was rising and falling. He sat down hard as it gave a moan. The tattered figure stirred, and for the first time he noticed the blood soaking through the blue cloth and staining the ground. His stomach lurched as he remembered that city, those humans coming after him, the stopped ones... It moaned again, and he wanted to run, run hard and just leave the things and bear with the shame. He chewed his lower lip, twisted his hands. If I leave it'll still be here...and it's hurt... Despite the fear, a sharp feeling wrenched his chest. With a tremulous hand, he touched its face. It's so small.. For the first time, he felt his fear dissipating. That's right, it's small, so it can't hurt me, even if it wakes up... A feeling of victory arose. And look, it's fat too...
The decision made, he gathered the things that he'd been sent for and put them on top of the torn backpack.
"I'll come back for you later," he said, then turned to the human. After some maneuvering and several unsettling twinges, he had it in his arms. The limp weight was heavy, and he staggered some as he rose from the ground. His hat had fallen askance, but he had no free hands to fix it. Part of him wanted to hold the human away from his body so that he wouldn't have to feel the wetness of the blood, so that it wouldn't be on him again--but another part remembered that when he was hurt the most was when he wanted to be closest to Mr. 36. With a grunt, he shifted the creature in his arms and began to walk as quickly as he could back to the village. The sooner he could put it down, the better.
123 bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently as he leaned against the haphazard door of the weapon shop. Still no sign of 56, and he'd been gone all day. Too long. Without warning, Mr. 239 opened the door and, black mage balance being what it was, 123 was soon on the floor at his feet.
"How many times must I absolutely beg you to not bounce against the door like that? You're breaking the hinges and running me nuts," 239 said, his hands on his hips in annoyance. His half amused smirk ruined it.
"It's 56--he's still not back. What if...what if...he's s-stopped out there? Shouldn't maybe someone go see...?" 123 whispered as he was pulled back to his feet. An uncomfortable silence ensued, and he stared at the ground as he remembered how 117 had stopped on the trip to Conde Petie. It had looked as though he'd just decided to go to sleep for a moment, for the bolts of cloth that he'd been sent to buy were propped under his head when they found him.
"W-well...more like you're worried because he won't bring back the right color sticks..." 239 tried, and gave a breath of relief when the diversion worked.
"That's right, that too! I don't know what 234 was thinking, bringing back all that pink and purple and orange. Not a single green among them, not one! I'll never finish my picture of the woods," he huffed, anxiously angling his head to see further down the path. "Hey...um, I think I see...is that him?"
"Umm, yeah, I think so..." 234 confirmed for him. For some reason, all of the B type mages in the village had trouble seeing anything too far ahead of them. "Hey...I think he's..."
But the words were lost on 123. Overcome with relief and eager for his art supplies, he ran as best as he could and nearly plowed into Mr. 56.
"Geez, will you be careful!"
"We were getting worried but hey did you get'em, did you get'em like I asked you?"
"Well, yeah..."
"Ooo, where are they? Hurry up, I wanna start before the light changes too much!" 56 couldn't help but be amused by his brother's excitement, and he felt kind of sorry to ruin it.
"Well, you see...I don't have...have them with me..."
"What?! Why not?" 56 shifted his feet some at the disappointment in 123's voice, his arms aching.
"You see, I've got this..."
For the first time, 123 saw the human. With a squawk he jumped backwards, arms windmilling, and landed flat on his bottom.
"Wh-what...why..."
"Oh, it was...I think it's hurt, and I couldn't just leave it there, right?"
"Are you crazy? It'll kill us! It'll...it'll..." Mr. 56 puffed out his chest some.
"Well, I carried it all this way and I think it's kind of cute. I mean, look at it and its little round belly and all. Are you scared of it?" He neglected to mention just how petrified he was, just how close he was to dropping it and having a fit of the...what did 32 call it...? Heebie jeebies.
"Yes, I'm scared of it and if you're not you're crazier than I thought!" If there was ever a pale black mage it was 123. "Remember how 24 thought he'd be nice and take care of that baby owl? Remember how it tore his hands up even though he was trying to help it? It looked pretty harmless and cute too!"
"What seems to be the problem here?" a deeper voice interrupted, punctuated by the jingle of a staff.
"Look at...look!" 123 pointed at 56 from his spot on the ground, certain that 288 would solve this problem. Suddenly feeling a bit small, Mr. 56 hugged the figure closer to him. Gosh...I didn't think everyone would be so mad... But still, he faced Mr. 288 squarely with as much defiance as he could muster.
"I found this on the path in the woods...I...wasn't sure that I should leave it there." To his surprise, Mr. 288 smiled.
"A human girl," he murmured, and reached out a gentle hand to rest on its cheek.
"Umm, are you sure you should touch it?" 123 asked tentatively from the ground.
"What should we do with it?" 239 asked, speaking for the first time. Before, he'd been too surprised to be as vocal as 123. 288 chuckled softly.
"Why are you asking me? I have the same experience with humans as we all do." There was quiet for a moment.
"Oh, no, not in this village!" Mr. 192 had found his way to the commotion. He roughly pushed 239 aside to get a better look. "We aren't keeping that thing...56, you've gotta put it back," he said firmly, his wide eyes betraying his fear.
"P-put it back? Why? It's not doing anything!"
"And it's sick with the fever..." 288 interjected softly.
"Oh, not now it's not hurting anything, but how do you know it won't when it wakes up? 56, there's a reason we put up an illusion in front of the village and you just waltz in here with one?!"
"That's sort of what I thought..." said 123, dusting off his bottom as he tried to regain his dignity.
"Hey, what's that you've got...?" More mages were coming to see what the argument was about, craning their necks to get a better look. Mr. 56 looked at them hopelessly as they gave the bundle in his arms all different sorts of looks--questioning, hard, angry. He suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he blinked them back.
"Well it's mine, and you can't have it and I'm not putting it back!" he cried, taking a step backwards.
"Arrah, geez, 56, no one's gonna take it from you. Let me look too." 44 worked his way to the front--not a hard feat since he was both taller and wider than any of the others. With twinkling eyes he smiled, and 56 felt himself breathing easier. Mr. 44 was always so nice...
"Can I touch it?" he asked softly, and 56 nodded. Large hands rested on the girl's chubby belly. "Looks like she eats a lot like me," he said with a grin. She moaned, and he smoothed her hair, his eyes glowing with a kind of empathy that 56 had never seen. "Hush, you're alright. Hey, can I hold her?" 56 nodded uneasily, and gasped with the ache in his arms as he handed her over. Silently, he straightened his hat, worked out the cramps, and waited for 44's reaction. After a long moment of studying her white little face, he turned to the crowd. Nearly every mage in the village was there.
"Well, seems to me there's nothing to be done for it, right? It wakes up and it's mean, we take it to Conde Petie where they know more about humans. It wakes up and it's nice, well...what's the loss? You can't really think to put this person that's hurt back out there? And 56 carried it all this way." Feet shuffled nervously, and it was quiet.
"She can stay in the inn for now, I think...we'll wait till she wakes up and go from there. Is that okay with everyone?" 288 asked the assembled mages. There was quiet talking, but no one spoke up to disagree.
Author's Notes: Hi minna! Thanks for reading part one of my story ^v^! I've never posted any of my fanfics before--just wrote them for my own benefit.... So in a way this is my first fanfic! @_@ Pleez review--feedback and constructive criticism is madly appreciated!
By Bmv_no_Miko
Chapter One: A Whiter Shade of Pale
Is it always so hot?
Mr. 56 shifted the leather pack on his back, careful not to worry the hole in the left corner. The cracked and sagging bag had already ripped twice, and a fine mess it would be trying to carry all of the Conde Petie stuff back full of sand if it ripped again.
"If only I wouldn't keep forgetting the mending kit when I..." but he abruptly stopped talking to himself as the wind blew sand in his mouth. He coughed some and spat what he could out, frowning over his absent mindedness. Now the grit would be in his teeth the whole way back, and wouldn't that teach him to keep his mouth firmly shut? He hoisted the heavy pack again, trying to let some air get to his sweaty back and cool him down. It was never really pleasant making the trading trip, but he'd needed to go, needed to get out of the village, out of the cemetary, away from waiting for Mr. 36 to somehow come out of the ground. I still don't think he can breathe under there, no matter what 192 says. He shut his eyes with a shudder. I won't think about this. I'm out here to not think about this.
And yet it was no use. 56 and 36 had once made the same trip, only that time they were much less certain that they'd ever get anywhere. In some big city he'd awoke, and there was a body without a head in front of him. After wavering there for a moment, it had fallen, limp and mangled. In terror and confusion he'd fled. The jagged buildings and bodies all looked the same to him then, and everything radiated danger. There was such a cacaphony of noises and sick burnt smells of flesh and blood and worse sights...When a man with a kitchen knife struck at him, he was so afraid that he forgot that he could defend himself with magic. The result was the thick, half-healed scar across his left shoulder that the pack was irritating so. And then he met 36 several days later, hiding in a cave with deep wounds in his hip where a pitchfork had caught him. 36 had been running for longer, knew a little more, and had several potions that he happily shared, glad not to be alone in his pain.
Together they had stowed away on a boat, more to get away from where they were than to get to any particular destination. For days they had hidden in the storage hold. The lack of food, fear of discovery, choppy sea, and excessive vanish spells wore them into sickness and exhaustion. When the boat had finally docked, they'd fled again, narrowly missing being caught. Without water they began walking, plodding, stumbling. All they knew was that they needed to go further north, that something was calling them there. And so they'd walked and walked, blistered and burned, parched and hungry, and finally reached the village. It was the most amazing relief he'd ever experienced.
Two days after that, Mr. 36 simply stopped in his bed.
56 shivered and straightened his hat, remembering how he could get no reaction, not even a breath, out of his traveling companion and only friend. They were even sleeping in the same room, just recovering. Why just him, and not me? Will I stop soon too? He'll wake up, right? Mr. 288 had said that it was proper to bury him, that this was the right sort of thing to do when someone stopped. 56 was frantic, worried that it would hurt, worried that Mr. 36 would be scared when he woke up in the ground, that he'd think that maybe the humans had got him. It had taken the soothing words of Mr. 44 and sleepweed to get him calmed down. While he slept, they put Mr. 36 in the ground, where maybe it was cold, and maybe there were bugs...
He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly ran smack into the trees. Oh, am I here already? Blinking and shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts, he stepped into the forest...and stopped abruptly.
There was a...something...laying in the path. Magic forgotton, his left hand slowly inched to his side where 36's old knife was tucked. The smooth handle offered him some bravery. Taking shallow breaths, he edged toward the figure. A stick snapped under his foot and he jumped. Disgusted with himself, he made his way closer, his knuckles white from clenching the knife hilt. Standing on his tiptoes, he could just see its head. His stomach dropped into his feet.
It was a human.
Hand splayed over his chest, he tried to still his panicked and drumming heart. It's just laying there...it can't hurt me, right? All I have to do is step over it...like this... He pressed hard against the trees, trying not to touch it as he moved past it. But it was no good. The rotting leaves slipped beneath him, and his shaking knees sent him crashing to the ground beside it.
Gasping, he scrambled away, the backpack hopelessly ripped. Breathing hard, he sat back against a tree and tried to gather his wits. I can't go back without the stuff, not when I asked to go. Everyone will be disappointed...I have to get the things...
He swallowed, then slowly began to crawl about, gathering the paintbrushes, oil flasks, long-burning wicks, and other odds and ends that he'd been sent for. As the human continued to lay still, he grew braver and drew closer. He'd spent so long hiding that he'd never really gotten a good look at one. Wait till I tell Mr. 36 about this! Tensed to flee at any moment, he looked down into its face. Its skin was pale white and all scratched, the expression drawn even in sleep. The tightly curled and matted blonde hair had bits of sticks and leaves in it. A fly quietly landed on the human's cheek, rubbing its legs together. His blood suddenly ran cold. Is it...is it stopped...will it wake up? He trembled, somehow seeing Mr. 36 in the still expression.
But no, its chest was rising and falling. He sat down hard as it gave a moan. The tattered figure stirred, and for the first time he noticed the blood soaking through the blue cloth and staining the ground. His stomach lurched as he remembered that city, those humans coming after him, the stopped ones... It moaned again, and he wanted to run, run hard and just leave the things and bear with the shame. He chewed his lower lip, twisted his hands. If I leave it'll still be here...and it's hurt... Despite the fear, a sharp feeling wrenched his chest. With a tremulous hand, he touched its face. It's so small.. For the first time, he felt his fear dissipating. That's right, it's small, so it can't hurt me, even if it wakes up... A feeling of victory arose. And look, it's fat too...
The decision made, he gathered the things that he'd been sent for and put them on top of the torn backpack.
"I'll come back for you later," he said, then turned to the human. After some maneuvering and several unsettling twinges, he had it in his arms. The limp weight was heavy, and he staggered some as he rose from the ground. His hat had fallen askance, but he had no free hands to fix it. Part of him wanted to hold the human away from his body so that he wouldn't have to feel the wetness of the blood, so that it wouldn't be on him again--but another part remembered that when he was hurt the most was when he wanted to be closest to Mr. 36. With a grunt, he shifted the creature in his arms and began to walk as quickly as he could back to the village. The sooner he could put it down, the better.
123 bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently as he leaned against the haphazard door of the weapon shop. Still no sign of 56, and he'd been gone all day. Too long. Without warning, Mr. 239 opened the door and, black mage balance being what it was, 123 was soon on the floor at his feet.
"How many times must I absolutely beg you to not bounce against the door like that? You're breaking the hinges and running me nuts," 239 said, his hands on his hips in annoyance. His half amused smirk ruined it.
"It's 56--he's still not back. What if...what if...he's s-stopped out there? Shouldn't maybe someone go see...?" 123 whispered as he was pulled back to his feet. An uncomfortable silence ensued, and he stared at the ground as he remembered how 117 had stopped on the trip to Conde Petie. It had looked as though he'd just decided to go to sleep for a moment, for the bolts of cloth that he'd been sent to buy were propped under his head when they found him.
"W-well...more like you're worried because he won't bring back the right color sticks..." 239 tried, and gave a breath of relief when the diversion worked.
"That's right, that too! I don't know what 234 was thinking, bringing back all that pink and purple and orange. Not a single green among them, not one! I'll never finish my picture of the woods," he huffed, anxiously angling his head to see further down the path. "Hey...um, I think I see...is that him?"
"Umm, yeah, I think so..." 234 confirmed for him. For some reason, all of the B type mages in the village had trouble seeing anything too far ahead of them. "Hey...I think he's..."
But the words were lost on 123. Overcome with relief and eager for his art supplies, he ran as best as he could and nearly plowed into Mr. 56.
"Geez, will you be careful!"
"We were getting worried but hey did you get'em, did you get'em like I asked you?"
"Well, yeah..."
"Ooo, where are they? Hurry up, I wanna start before the light changes too much!" 56 couldn't help but be amused by his brother's excitement, and he felt kind of sorry to ruin it.
"Well, you see...I don't have...have them with me..."
"What?! Why not?" 56 shifted his feet some at the disappointment in 123's voice, his arms aching.
"You see, I've got this..."
For the first time, 123 saw the human. With a squawk he jumped backwards, arms windmilling, and landed flat on his bottom.
"Wh-what...why..."
"Oh, it was...I think it's hurt, and I couldn't just leave it there, right?"
"Are you crazy? It'll kill us! It'll...it'll..." Mr. 56 puffed out his chest some.
"Well, I carried it all this way and I think it's kind of cute. I mean, look at it and its little round belly and all. Are you scared of it?" He neglected to mention just how petrified he was, just how close he was to dropping it and having a fit of the...what did 32 call it...? Heebie jeebies.
"Yes, I'm scared of it and if you're not you're crazier than I thought!" If there was ever a pale black mage it was 123. "Remember how 24 thought he'd be nice and take care of that baby owl? Remember how it tore his hands up even though he was trying to help it? It looked pretty harmless and cute too!"
"What seems to be the problem here?" a deeper voice interrupted, punctuated by the jingle of a staff.
"Look at...look!" 123 pointed at 56 from his spot on the ground, certain that 288 would solve this problem. Suddenly feeling a bit small, Mr. 56 hugged the figure closer to him. Gosh...I didn't think everyone would be so mad... But still, he faced Mr. 288 squarely with as much defiance as he could muster.
"I found this on the path in the woods...I...wasn't sure that I should leave it there." To his surprise, Mr. 288 smiled.
"A human girl," he murmured, and reached out a gentle hand to rest on its cheek.
"Umm, are you sure you should touch it?" 123 asked tentatively from the ground.
"What should we do with it?" 239 asked, speaking for the first time. Before, he'd been too surprised to be as vocal as 123. 288 chuckled softly.
"Why are you asking me? I have the same experience with humans as we all do." There was quiet for a moment.
"Oh, no, not in this village!" Mr. 192 had found his way to the commotion. He roughly pushed 239 aside to get a better look. "We aren't keeping that thing...56, you've gotta put it back," he said firmly, his wide eyes betraying his fear.
"P-put it back? Why? It's not doing anything!"
"And it's sick with the fever..." 288 interjected softly.
"Oh, not now it's not hurting anything, but how do you know it won't when it wakes up? 56, there's a reason we put up an illusion in front of the village and you just waltz in here with one?!"
"That's sort of what I thought..." said 123, dusting off his bottom as he tried to regain his dignity.
"Hey, what's that you've got...?" More mages were coming to see what the argument was about, craning their necks to get a better look. Mr. 56 looked at them hopelessly as they gave the bundle in his arms all different sorts of looks--questioning, hard, angry. He suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. Tears sprang to his eyes, but he blinked them back.
"Well it's mine, and you can't have it and I'm not putting it back!" he cried, taking a step backwards.
"Arrah, geez, 56, no one's gonna take it from you. Let me look too." 44 worked his way to the front--not a hard feat since he was both taller and wider than any of the others. With twinkling eyes he smiled, and 56 felt himself breathing easier. Mr. 44 was always so nice...
"Can I touch it?" he asked softly, and 56 nodded. Large hands rested on the girl's chubby belly. "Looks like she eats a lot like me," he said with a grin. She moaned, and he smoothed her hair, his eyes glowing with a kind of empathy that 56 had never seen. "Hush, you're alright. Hey, can I hold her?" 56 nodded uneasily, and gasped with the ache in his arms as he handed her over. Silently, he straightened his hat, worked out the cramps, and waited for 44's reaction. After a long moment of studying her white little face, he turned to the crowd. Nearly every mage in the village was there.
"Well, seems to me there's nothing to be done for it, right? It wakes up and it's mean, we take it to Conde Petie where they know more about humans. It wakes up and it's nice, well...what's the loss? You can't really think to put this person that's hurt back out there? And 56 carried it all this way." Feet shuffled nervously, and it was quiet.
"She can stay in the inn for now, I think...we'll wait till she wakes up and go from there. Is that okay with everyone?" 288 asked the assembled mages. There was quiet talking, but no one spoke up to disagree.
Author's Notes: Hi minna! Thanks for reading part one of my story ^v^! I've never posted any of my fanfics before--just wrote them for my own benefit.... So in a way this is my first fanfic! @_@ Pleez review--feedback and constructive criticism is madly appreciated!