Title: Little Unknown Facts
Summary: There are a few things that go unacknowledged about the Yu-Gi-Oh cast; some are redundant, while others are much more important. Character-based, occasional allusion to pairings.
Chapter: 1/?
Character: Kisara
Note: So, I haven't been active on fanfiction in over a year. This has been sitting on my computer for ages, so I figured I'd post it for the sake of breaking my dry spell. There probably won't be any updates on this, so have fun with this.
1) Kisara is pale.
The harsh Egyptian sun beat down on Kisara. Its bright rays shone on her skin mercilessly, following her as she walked.
It was so hot.
Her breath came out in little huffs, sweat made her tattered dress cling to her skin. It would take a while before she would reach the town in the distance, and she doubted she'd be able to rest in the shade long, if at all.
She didn't really need to shade herself though. Aside from the slight pink coloring her flushed face, her skin was still completely pale. Any other person with such a fair complexion would have painful blisters from staying in the sun as long as she had.
But not Kisara. She had spent days without any protection from the light, and her skin never changed.
Kisara could never explain to herself why this was. It felt as if something was shielding her as she strode through open areas high above, were she couldn't see without the light hurting her eyes.
2) People were mean to Kisara.
Kisara lay still as the villagers continued to pelt her with stones. She knew if she struggled it would result in more rocks thrown her way.
The last one hit her shoulder painfully and the crowd dispersed, mumbling about white haired demons. She remained motionless until she couldn't hear the villagers shuffling away anymore, and then cautiously sat up. Sharp pain shot up her right arm, a trickle of blood dripping down her shoulder. She bit her lip in an attempt to keep her tears at bay.
She could tell bruises were beginning to form where the stones hit their mark under her dress. Where her skin was exposed, scrapes and cuts began to bleed. She stood up and glanced to her sides before she ducked down an alleyway.
Out of the open now, she allowed her tears to flow freely. Her whole body ached. She wanted to curl up here and stay at rest for a while, but the villagers could find her again. They made it very clear that she wasn't welcome in their village.
She wiped her gritty hand across her eyes and stumbled down the alley. She was never welcomed at any village she arrived at, so she usually avoided them. But sometimes she had no choice and had to take a chance or face certain death in the unforgiving desert.
Kisara was nearing the end of the alley when she heard footsteps behind her. Her heart thumped faster in her chest. She had no idea who was behind her, but she knew the person likely there to finish what the other villagers had begun. She kept her uneven pace as not to alert the person that she knew of their presence while she considered her problem.
There were only Kisara's footsteps and the other's, so this person was alone. This person was walking directly towards her. Kisara had no one to turn to; she had no allies in this village. The alley was vacant of anything that could be used as a weapon, and she was in no condition to run. This person was in a position that left her defenseless. Her only option was to pray to her gods and hope that whoever this person was would be merciful.
A hand dropped on her injured shoulder, making her wince and she held her breath. Surprisingly enough, she didn't receive another injury like she expected.
"You alright?" It was a feminine voice that spoke. Kisara turned her head to see a woman who looked a few years older than her. The woman spoke a language that Kisara could just barely comprehend, let alone speak. But the woman's nonthreatening tone led her to the guess that she meant her no harm.
"Are you alright?" The woman asked again, speaking plainly enough so that Kisara could understand. Kisara recognized the meaning of the words. She had once heard a young woman speaking the same words to her injured son. But why would this woman ask her that?
"I- I'm fine." She answered. Though she spoke in her native language, the woman understood her well enough.
"Come with me." The woman held out a hand.
Kisara hesitated. This could be a trap. She'd learned long ago that accepting a hand from a stranger would get her a slap, or a shove. But this woman didn't have deceptive eyes like the others. She seemed genuinely kind.
"I'm don't wish to hurt you. I'm not like them."
Though she didn't understand what the woman was saying, she had such a warm expression on her face Kisara could have cried for it's lack of hostility.
Kisara placed her hand in the woman's.
