I don't own Thief Lord. Or the characters. Good bye.(Storms off)
Um...Sorry about that, she's really wants to see the movie, but it isn't on Netflix, so she's really mad. Enjoy the story while I stop her from taking out her anger/annoyance on the 13th Reality FF authors. Bye!
Riccio's POV
I check my watch and sigh. Is it really so hard for Prosper to stop making out with Hornet long enough to pick me up from football practice? His art club and Hornet's book club get out at about the same time, but this is the third time this week he's forgotten. I pick up my bag and walk towards Ida's house, only stopping by a nearby restroom to change out of my jersey. Yeah, I know what you're probably thinking: Since when did skinny, small, little ol' Riccio play football? It does seem a bit strange, but in my freshman year, I started playing football, soccer, and a few other sports. Wait, now you're probably wondering how old I am, and how the others are. Fine.
Prosper, Mosca, and I are all 16, give or take a few months. Hornet is 15 ½. We're all sophomores this year. Prosper and Hornet finally got together last summer. It took so long, you wouldn't believe me if I told you, so I won't. Mosca is dating a girl named Rya, who's really nice. She's also 15.
Scipio's 25 or so in appearance and is on his honeymoon with Scamper, AKA Eva, who's 23.
Bo is 9, and still a little angelic ball of energy. Now that you've had the update, let's continue.
I'm just passing by an alley when I hear a delicate voice-a girl's voice-saying things like, "No, please, just leave me alone!" I drop my backpack and run over to the alley. Inside, a girl is sitting with her back to the wall. Her arms are held over her head, and she's looking away from the other person in the alley. The man is all fat and muscle. He's also intoxicated, easy to see from his slurred movements and, well, he's holding a bottle of port in his left hand. His right hand is held in a fist over the girl. I slip in, trying not to attract either person's attention. As I get closer, I see the girl's body is covered with bruises and cuts. Her clothes are frayed and ripped, and her leg seems broken. The man hits her with his fist and goes to take a swig of port. He finds the bottle empty. Enraged, he throws the bottle at the alley wall and I try not to flinch and cry out as a piece of glass lodges in the area above my cheek bone. The guy picks up a particularly large piece of glass and holds it like a weapon over the girl, who flinches and is shaking in fear. He lifts the glass higher, ready to stab her. I run towards him, but I know that I'll be too late. He plunges the glass into her unprotected stomach just before I get there. I tackle him, knocking him to the ground. Normally, I wouldn't be able to knock him over, but his balance is off.
I shake my head to clear it, then check to see if he's unconscious. He is. I run over to the girl, who's trying to stop the bleeding with the tatters of her dark blue shirt. She looks up, and her cerulean eyes meet my green ones before they close as she passes out from blood loss.
I snap back to reality and pull off my shirt-which is getting too small anyways-and hold it to her stomach wound. I pick her and my bag up and run to Ida's. No time to hesitate for silly pedestrians and tourists.
Girl's POV, when Riccio first hears her
"No, please, just leave me alone!" I cry out as the man's fist hits my already sore arms. His hand is still in a fist, and he holds the port bottle in his other hand. I hope he doesn't realize it's empty. I see a flicker at the end of the alley. A boy about my age is creeping in. I make no move that I see him and just try to watch the man as he prepares to hit me again. He hits my arms again and I stifle a whimper and hold back tears. He goes to take a sip of port and realizes its empty. Oh crap.
He throws the bottle at the wall near me in anger. I flinch, but most of the glass doesn't hit me. The man picks up a really large, sharp piece of glass. He starts to lift it, ready to plunge it down-into me. The boy at the end of the alley runs towards us, but he won't make it. The glass plunges into my stomach, which immediately starts gushing blood around the edges of the glass.
As the boy gets up and checks if the man is still conscious, I pull the glass out and watch in horror as more blood pours out. I grabs some pieces of my tattered blue shirt to try and stifle the flow of blood.
I look up, and my eyes meet his grass green ones. The world goes black, and the last thing I remember is the concern showing in his eyes…
Gaz, those writers totally deserved it!
Sure…
They weren't even writing for that fandom AT ALL.
Fine. I guess you have a poi-wait, is the story over?
Crap. It is. Uh….Please review? And forget the conversation above? Got to go!
Ugh...