Whooooo thankee kindly lovely ppl who review this. And I believe AbyssDemon was bribing me with cheese, tut tut! *looks
around and then takes the cheese, hides it in her pocket* AHEM. Asides, anybody thinks anythings weird or would like to
point out summin I'm doing wrong, do let me know. For a start I know there is a specific name for the Stair Room but I don't
know what it is *shrugs* Anyways, enjoy....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where are we?"
"Don't you know?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I did."
"We're in your mind Sarah. It's the easiest place to do this."
"To do what?"
"What do you think? Make sense of all that you don't understand. And you won't be able to accuse me of lying Sarah, because
all I will tell you will be confirmed by your own mind."
"Why is it so dark?"
The sound of his laughter in the dark should have been comforting, should have filled the void. It didn't.
"We're not inside your physical mind you little idiot. We're... inside your psyche, if you want."
"... I didn't know you could do things like this."
"There's a lot you don't know darling."
"I don't..."
"Shush...
The Underground that you know of is only the smallest piece, and in a different state to what it once was. Always a place
of fearful uncertainty for mortal humans, but never for it's inhabitants. This was not always so, when war was prominent
and mistrust between lords of all domains held fast the thick, dark feeling of hate and fear that could be breathed in by
every living creature in our World. Leaders were greedy and power-crazed, fuelled by cruelty, determination and even
sometimes insanity. Wars were battled so commonly the Underground had come to expect it, and could feel it approaching
every day. Cowardice and fear became a native tongue. You pronounced loyalty to one Lord that you trusted most, who
governed where you were born and prayed that they were strong enough to Never, ever fall. Those who did not, found
themselves forever an outcast, forever despised and feared. In such a World, in such an Underground... Serita was born."
Before Sarah could tell him that she didn't want to know, that in the pit of her stomach she knew she wouldn't be able to
endure what he would tell her, she was blurring, her world changing and pitching around her. And then it spewed her out.
Crying.... mouth open wide, red and wet, a pure hurt in the scream... Naked and cold and no one was holding her, she needed
to be held, why wasn't she being held? She knew little but that she was meant to be being held and someone should stop her
screaming. Everything around her was red and wet, it wasn't just her mouth, people scattered and still with glazed white
eyes staring up at a sky so stark it hurt to look.... Why was no one holding her???
Singing... A gentle old voice singing gently as she rocked, moving steadily, head pressed against a musty old shirtfront, a
soft old chest beneath that had a beating heart, beating faster as she moved, the clank of her baggage on her worn old
back....
"And you're a little princess, that's why you're called Serita... Yes you are!"... Harsher voices in the dark, screaming and
yelling and fear of being discovered. Safe in the dark, safe in the dark... No one knew how safe the dark was but her and
Old Mother Rashinta....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Serita, knew who she was. She had never deceived herself in what she was, though her name seemed a mockery. A bastard child,
spewn out of her mother even as she died from a violent attack from robbers, her husband, maybe more, dying with her. Her
screams had drawn Old Mother Rashinta to the disgusting spectacle, their cart on fire, the glade turned from green to red.
A newborn screaming amidst the blood, the first thing it saw aggression, the first thing it felt cold air and being totally
alone. Old Mother Rashinta had told her of it many a time, told it over and over until Serita no longer cried at the telling
of it. "You cannot weep for someone you never knew. What good is a dead body for a mother?" she would pronounce sharply.
All she knew was Rashinta's old back, her soft wrinkled hands that could turn into hard bony shards should she so choose.
They travelled always, never staying anywhere too long, always with Old Mother Rashinta singing old songs, telling her
stories, making their world all vivid coloured patterns as they went along their way. "You're fortunate my girl. Not for
you becoming a wife, learning to take care of a man and knowing nothing else. I have given you a chance for freedom. You
shall know many things..." And so she had. She knew how to steal. Nimble as a cat, speedy as a lizard, she could enter
through any window no matter how high, through any door no matter how securely bolted. She knew what was worth taking and
what was not by the time she was ten years old, gaining a discerning eye and a meticulous nature. Unlike other little girls,
she never had any fear of the dark. The dark was her ally, she could step back into it, and to the world around her, no longer
exist. She could make herself out of shadow. She became so accustomed to it that, to her credit, she could perform a
burglary under the cover of exquisite darkness, her hands becoming so sensitive in such times that she could feel whether
she wanted what she held. For a woman of her age, Old Mother Rashinta still retained the tricks of her trade remarkably.
She indeed, also had no qualms about hurting someone should they get in her way. Shadows were better, certainly, secrecy far
more dignified, but Serita had been astounded many a time by the sight of Rashinta spinning sharply, grabbing a charging
servants arm and sending them flying into a wall, knocking them unconscious with their own momentum. Never was strength used
for Rashinta had little if any of that. Yes, she had been taught many things.
But that time was done with now. They had been good times for certain, and despite seeing very few people Serita had never
felt alone with Old Mother Rashinta near, her mother thief. But death had taken her down, and that was something that even
Rashinta could not steal back. So Serita had continued her travels alone. These times were times of War in the Underground,
and as a bastard with no lord and no heritage she could not have taken a place staying still even if she had wanted to. But
her profession as a thief necessitated that she move around, and though she did on occasion join a small band of similar
people she was most commonly alone. Because of this she had very little social decorum at all. But then such things didn't
bother her. Morals and feelings of obligation merely tied a person down. She would steal from anyone, and HAD for that
matter, even gone so far as to break into Lords houses. And when she was caught... Surprisingly, whilst her social skills
had never even existed let alone been bad, her abilities of manipulation and trickery were remarkable. Rishinta certainly
wouldn't have approved, but then Serita had picked up techniques that were all her own as she had grown. Far more prone to
violence than Rishinta would ever have condowned, she had most likely killed dozens of men by the time she was nineteen.
She could always of course, use other methods, should the occasion arise. She was not stupid, and she knew that to kill a
Lord would instantly initiate her death. Spreading her legs for a man in exchange for her life meant very little to her.
She had not lived so long simply to die due to refusing a man something so simple, so meaningless.
By the time she was twenty one she was a renowned thief, at least, her work was well known. Not even that she was a woman
was fully confirmed. Hardened, calloused and contemptuous of nearly all she met, she wore battle like a mantle around her
shoulders. Such was the beginning of her...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OOOOOH Plz REVIEW!!! I dunno whether this is way OTT or not so plz do!
around and then takes the cheese, hides it in her pocket* AHEM. Asides, anybody thinks anythings weird or would like to
point out summin I'm doing wrong, do let me know. For a start I know there is a specific name for the Stair Room but I don't
know what it is *shrugs* Anyways, enjoy....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where are we?"
"Don't you know?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I did."
"We're in your mind Sarah. It's the easiest place to do this."
"To do what?"
"What do you think? Make sense of all that you don't understand. And you won't be able to accuse me of lying Sarah, because
all I will tell you will be confirmed by your own mind."
"Why is it so dark?"
The sound of his laughter in the dark should have been comforting, should have filled the void. It didn't.
"We're not inside your physical mind you little idiot. We're... inside your psyche, if you want."
"... I didn't know you could do things like this."
"There's a lot you don't know darling."
"I don't..."
"Shush...
The Underground that you know of is only the smallest piece, and in a different state to what it once was. Always a place
of fearful uncertainty for mortal humans, but never for it's inhabitants. This was not always so, when war was prominent
and mistrust between lords of all domains held fast the thick, dark feeling of hate and fear that could be breathed in by
every living creature in our World. Leaders were greedy and power-crazed, fuelled by cruelty, determination and even
sometimes insanity. Wars were battled so commonly the Underground had come to expect it, and could feel it approaching
every day. Cowardice and fear became a native tongue. You pronounced loyalty to one Lord that you trusted most, who
governed where you were born and prayed that they were strong enough to Never, ever fall. Those who did not, found
themselves forever an outcast, forever despised and feared. In such a World, in such an Underground... Serita was born."
Before Sarah could tell him that she didn't want to know, that in the pit of her stomach she knew she wouldn't be able to
endure what he would tell her, she was blurring, her world changing and pitching around her. And then it spewed her out.
Crying.... mouth open wide, red and wet, a pure hurt in the scream... Naked and cold and no one was holding her, she needed
to be held, why wasn't she being held? She knew little but that she was meant to be being held and someone should stop her
screaming. Everything around her was red and wet, it wasn't just her mouth, people scattered and still with glazed white
eyes staring up at a sky so stark it hurt to look.... Why was no one holding her???
Singing... A gentle old voice singing gently as she rocked, moving steadily, head pressed against a musty old shirtfront, a
soft old chest beneath that had a beating heart, beating faster as she moved, the clank of her baggage on her worn old
back....
"And you're a little princess, that's why you're called Serita... Yes you are!"... Harsher voices in the dark, screaming and
yelling and fear of being discovered. Safe in the dark, safe in the dark... No one knew how safe the dark was but her and
Old Mother Rashinta....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Serita, knew who she was. She had never deceived herself in what she was, though her name seemed a mockery. A bastard child,
spewn out of her mother even as she died from a violent attack from robbers, her husband, maybe more, dying with her. Her
screams had drawn Old Mother Rashinta to the disgusting spectacle, their cart on fire, the glade turned from green to red.
A newborn screaming amidst the blood, the first thing it saw aggression, the first thing it felt cold air and being totally
alone. Old Mother Rashinta had told her of it many a time, told it over and over until Serita no longer cried at the telling
of it. "You cannot weep for someone you never knew. What good is a dead body for a mother?" she would pronounce sharply.
All she knew was Rashinta's old back, her soft wrinkled hands that could turn into hard bony shards should she so choose.
They travelled always, never staying anywhere too long, always with Old Mother Rashinta singing old songs, telling her
stories, making their world all vivid coloured patterns as they went along their way. "You're fortunate my girl. Not for
you becoming a wife, learning to take care of a man and knowing nothing else. I have given you a chance for freedom. You
shall know many things..." And so she had. She knew how to steal. Nimble as a cat, speedy as a lizard, she could enter
through any window no matter how high, through any door no matter how securely bolted. She knew what was worth taking and
what was not by the time she was ten years old, gaining a discerning eye and a meticulous nature. Unlike other little girls,
she never had any fear of the dark. The dark was her ally, she could step back into it, and to the world around her, no longer
exist. She could make herself out of shadow. She became so accustomed to it that, to her credit, she could perform a
burglary under the cover of exquisite darkness, her hands becoming so sensitive in such times that she could feel whether
she wanted what she held. For a woman of her age, Old Mother Rashinta still retained the tricks of her trade remarkably.
She indeed, also had no qualms about hurting someone should they get in her way. Shadows were better, certainly, secrecy far
more dignified, but Serita had been astounded many a time by the sight of Rashinta spinning sharply, grabbing a charging
servants arm and sending them flying into a wall, knocking them unconscious with their own momentum. Never was strength used
for Rashinta had little if any of that. Yes, she had been taught many things.
But that time was done with now. They had been good times for certain, and despite seeing very few people Serita had never
felt alone with Old Mother Rashinta near, her mother thief. But death had taken her down, and that was something that even
Rashinta could not steal back. So Serita had continued her travels alone. These times were times of War in the Underground,
and as a bastard with no lord and no heritage she could not have taken a place staying still even if she had wanted to. But
her profession as a thief necessitated that she move around, and though she did on occasion join a small band of similar
people she was most commonly alone. Because of this she had very little social decorum at all. But then such things didn't
bother her. Morals and feelings of obligation merely tied a person down. She would steal from anyone, and HAD for that
matter, even gone so far as to break into Lords houses. And when she was caught... Surprisingly, whilst her social skills
had never even existed let alone been bad, her abilities of manipulation and trickery were remarkable. Rishinta certainly
wouldn't have approved, but then Serita had picked up techniques that were all her own as she had grown. Far more prone to
violence than Rishinta would ever have condowned, she had most likely killed dozens of men by the time she was nineteen.
She could always of course, use other methods, should the occasion arise. She was not stupid, and she knew that to kill a
Lord would instantly initiate her death. Spreading her legs for a man in exchange for her life meant very little to her.
She had not lived so long simply to die due to refusing a man something so simple, so meaningless.
By the time she was twenty one she was a renowned thief, at least, her work was well known. Not even that she was a woman
was fully confirmed. Hardened, calloused and contemptuous of nearly all she met, she wore battle like a mantle around her
shoulders. Such was the beginning of her...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
OOOOOH Plz REVIEW!!! I dunno whether this is way OTT or not so plz do!