THE
LITTLE PEOPLE
-Episode 0-
Camille Khan
September 13th, X826
Camille Khan, a normal girl. Nothing particularly special. Just brown skinned, fashionably put-together and tall enough to be mistaken for a sixteen-year old. She kept her hair underneath a bright blue turban; the colour, alone, would've sent her back to jail. Though the word 'jail' unconsciously made her hand to rub against the side of her neck as it began to tighten slightly. Slowly the tension ebbed away into obscurity as she reminded herself where she was: a ship bound for Republic City down south of Pengrande Kingdom.
What lead her to this place started out with her name. 'Camille' was a commonly used by servant girls in the Desierto Imperium. Her grandmother was named 'Camille' while her best-friend also bore the same name. To differentiate one 'Camille' from another, they refer to one from the other by last name. Unfortunately Khan, is too, was a common like grains of sands in the desert; luckily her best-friend happened to be 'Azouz'.
"But I'm more of an Adele," she claimed. "Camille is a nice way to say 'servant-girl'"
"Although 'Adele' is a nice way to say 'scandal', don't you think?" Camille retorted.
Her friend only shrugged in response.
If only I can convinced her to choose a different name, like Inez or Lilou. Then again...I would not be here. My life would be stuck in a cycle of dirty floors and wrinkled sheets. Perhaps a turbulent marriage with a cane.
Eyes closed, Camille tucked those thoughts deep within her brain. Relaxed, she continued to observe—a state of being as her ears picked apart voices amidst the excitement and chatter of her fellow migrants. From loud baritoned voices of her fellow Diserto peasants to secluded promises between lovers in hushed whispers. Accents and melodies melded and sank into her brain like music from a grand orchestra.
"Mama! Mama! Look, a giant lady!"
Afar on the horizon, the statue of Lady Hope stood tall and proud. In her left hand, she wielded a long sceptre; her right held a torch high in the sky. She gazed across the harbour toward the horizon with a religious intent to protect. Republic city equally stood tall and proud as the sunlight slowly creeps up the skyline. Slowly awakening the city from a still-like-slumber; Camille felt time has just started.
-I-
Hundreds of migrants were crammed into the immigration office; colliding, squirming, overtaking one-another's voices for space to move. "A controlled chaos", Camille thought. She stood right in the epicentre of the small room. Pinball-ing her path towards the line of cubicles that stood at the very-far end, her petite-stature allowed her to slip underneath tallest of men and glide past widest of women with ballerina precision. Sometimes a loose piece of fabric from her over layered attire would snag underneath a foot or upturned nail—forever lost as she abandon the garment without second thought.
The scarf around her neck. Her shawl. The sarong and silk skirt. Her head scarf clipped onto something—she unwrapped that as well. Something akin to a knight peeling of his armour; Camille was vulnerable and without pride. But she kept her head still up high as flowing locks of dark-brown framed her slender face. She approached the cubicles with a simple cotton dress, woven sandals and small leather satchel that had seen better days in its lifetime.
"Papers please," the office spoke.
Without a word, she unceremoniously dumped her documents onto his desk with a heavy, dull thud.
The officer stared at her.
She stared back.
"It's a free city, isn't it?" she retorted.
He simply took her papers. Tidied them up. Scanned and stamped after a short period of time.
-II-
Skyscrapers pierced the sky, or so it seem.
From down below the skyline, dwarfed underneath shadows of buildings; Camille sat on a bench with a tourist map in hand. Spread out in such manner within her grasp, one could mistaken her a character ripped straight out a badly written comedy. It out-measured the capacity her arms could stretch, but she managed to study enough detail from a glance to know where she was. The Loop.
Named after the subway line (a first of its kind) deep within the earth, the train would travel in a loop for a span of an hour. Benefitting commuters dared to travel during weekday rush-hours...although be warned; prices do hike-up to curb demand.
"I wouldn't bother with the subways-still a work in progress."
Beside her was a man. A typical urbanite. From head to toe, his wardrobe would buy a year's worth of bread back home. From the over-sized white shirt that draped him like a lamp, to his black skinny pants and pointed black shoes. He wore a weathered denim jacket and retro looking glasses that made his eyes cartoonish-ly big. On top of his head was a black man bun with shaved sides; a full-grown beard and noticed his nose was slightly crooked. In some sense, he looked handsome in terms of slenderness. Camille preferred men with more meat and hair though.
"Camille Khan, I presume?" He asked.
"Depends who's asking." She replied.
The man shrugged and took out a black stick from his pocket.
"The map is a dead give away, if I had to be brutally honest. Also 'Peasant-chic' isn't due out till next season."
He twisted stick and slipped in his mouth. After a few seconds of silence, the stick slipped into his fingers and vapour poured out.
"Zozo sends her regards...that's why I'm here. The name is Rat," he introduced. "My real name, however, is just boring."
"Why call yourself 'Rat' then? seems odd for a man who is well dressed."
From the corner of his eyes, he gave her a crooked smile. "The name came from Zozo; an inside joke, I suppose. Give enough time for us to know each other, I'll tell you the story."
"Then she agreed?" Camille asked.
"Conditionally, I have to add." Rat spoke. "Be in her guild for a few months, she'll give what you had asked."
-Fin-
Author's Note
Cat: Project One of Two, it seemed fitting to end this story at a cliff-hanger. Although I give no apologies to the shortness of this chapter; it's simply a taster of the project's tone.
So anyways this is indeed as SYOC Fairy Tail fanfiction and take's place in a nation called Republic City (not very original, we know). The story is about a newly formed guild called The Little People run by Zozo Letissier. Excluding Camille and Rat, there are currently twelve mages in the guild; so we are hopping to accept twelve characters. Although don't worry, there are three other established guilds: The Kings of 99th Street, Renegades and Mari's Gold.
The application form would be in the profile shortly after this chapter is published. This would include a bit of back history of Republic City, Terms and Conditions and what the story needs.
Hopeful this project would stir some interest and get to receive interesting characters.
-End-