I own nothing, save my characters. Get over it.
***
Lumille sighed as she watched the three young girls depart in the small boat. They had no idea what would soon be done to them come nightfall. Tears stung at her eyes, but she immediately blinked them away. She knew that the slightest showing of weakness was heavily punished by Miss Aveil...
Lumille turned slowly and began climbing back into the pirate camp, her home of 10 years. She was melancholy every time she saw a little girl holding a spear... she still remembered vividly the day she was taken from her father to become a pirate. The fire... the screaming... the last she ever saw of her father was in a rather messy heap on her own bedroom floor with a spear protruding from his left eye. All of Ikana Village was burned to the ground that morning. She had seen only 6 winters.
Unlike the other gerudo she lived with, Lumille had not been born a pirate. She was the daughter of Tortus, the most recent male gerudo to grace the race of women. He had left the pirates when he had seen 27 winters, wanting to see the town, the world. He had married a woman he met in the Clock Town, the owner of the Stock Pot Inn. They had married, and had a little daughter, Anju. Anju and Lumille had the same father, but not the same mother. Tortus had left his wife and daughter, though Lumille had never dared ask why he'd left. She supposed he had simply gotten bored of town life. Lumille had never met Anju or even her own mother -- Tortus always said she'd died giving birth to Lumille. Still, Lumille had always wondered about her big sister; what she was like, how she looked. Lumille always thought she must be very pretty, since Anju had to the prettiest name she'd ever heard.
Lumille remembered those days... how a simple name had given her so much joy. How simple stories of another family had made her happy, despite how alone she really was.
Now Lumille was hardened at a meager sixteen winters seen, faith in others lost after only six. She just did not understand the point of opening up to someone when it would all just make you more vulnerable than when you started out anyway. Suffer alone and lose alone, no dragging anyone else down. That was just the way she thought.
Little did she know things would soon change.
***
Danté sighed. He had no idea how long he had been in the pirate's cell; all he knew was the persistent and unpleasant grumbling of his stomach.
'It's going to digest itself if I don't get a proper meal soon...' he thought bitterly. He couldn't sleep in the cell - his terror was too great. Every minute he could hear the clashing of spears, the battle cries of the women, the clinking of gold as it was added to the piles. From listening to the pirates speaking with Aveil, he managed to learn a great deal about the fortress he was being held captive in. Much to his surprise, he found out that it was only slightly west from where he had first laid down to sleep in the Spider House. Every minute he was trying to find a way out, but his hunger was beginning to overpower plans of escape in his mind.
Suddenly, Danté jumped. He heard a strange, grinding sound across the room, from behind the wall. He looked up to see a section of the wall disappearing. An instant later he realized it was a door being unlocked and opened, a door he had not even known was there. It opened the rest of the way to reveal a very pretty but distraught-looking gerudo pirate carrying a covered tray with both hands. It seemed to Danté that she could not have seen more than 16 winters in her life. She closed the door behind her, then set the tray down on the floor, and removed the covering. What was revealed shocked Danté more than the visit itself, or even the visitor.
Seven whole fish of seven different species lay in neat filets on a large silver platter. The filets lay on a bed of greens and cheeses Danté had never seen before. He glanced up at her a moment before diving into the food, his stomach rising above his reason. She stood leaning against the wall, unmoving, silent, watching him as he satisfied his hunger. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes spoke volumes of her life to the experienced reader. Her eyes buzzed with thought and consideration, decisions being made every second. They were certainly beautiful, but haunting; they contained more wisdom than befit her age.
'Don't bother to thank me, please.'
He looked up. She smirked.
'I'm long accustomed to being used, believe me. Just know this - this meal is from my own plate. You aren't meant to have any visitors, or any meals. They mean to leave you here until you die.'
Danté froze, a chill dancing along his spine. She moved across the room and sat with her legs spread, feet together, arms wrapped loosely around her bent knees.
'I'm Lumille.'
He quickly downed the rather large bite of trout he had in his mouth.
'Danté.' he extended his hand in greeting. She didn't even move hers. After a moment of silence, he let his own drop back to his plate.
'Sorry about that rope, by the way.' He looked at her again, bewildered by this sudden apology, for what he didn't even know. She smirked again. 'I'm the one who tied the rope around your neck to keep the sack on. Sorry, a bit tight, wasn't it?'
His mouth was hanging open by now. Luckily for Lumille, it was empty.
She spoke of her action against him as casually as if she were telling him what she had had for breakfast. Did she have no morals at all?
'I know. It's sad, isn't it?'
'What's sad?'
'No, scratch that. It's just plain demoralizing, that's what it is. My actions, I mean. How I can just talk about how I kidnapped you and not feel any regret at all.'
Danté hesitated a moment, then nodded. 'That's exactly what I was thinking.'
She gazed absentmindedly at the wall to her left as he finished his meal. After a long pause, she spoke quietly, as if in a trance.
'I killed two people last week. I destroyed another three just an hour ago.'
Danté stayed quiet. He had no idea how to respond to such confessions, from a total stranger no less
'I don't have any hope anymore. I don't have a family, I don't have any friends, I don't have any... feelings. None at all.' She looked to his black eyes. 'You... you have suffered as much as I have. You know what it is to be torn from what can barely be called a family, to see what you call your life fall apart right in front of you, in an instant. I can see it in your eyes. You don't have anything left. Anything.'
'... You know more than you should.' His voice was cold, hard. Talk of family was the last thing he wanted, especially from the one who had him thrown in here in the first place.
She sighed and got up. 'You have no idea how many times I've been told that.' She gazed pointedly at the plate his dinner had once laid on. He looked down and saw a corner of cloth peeking out from under a leaf. He looked up at her in confusion.
'I have only this to say to you, Zora. You'd better not lose hope the way I have, or I'll come after you and eat your children. Don't think I won't.'
She walked out without another word, slamming the door behind her. He waited for the grinding of the lock.
It never came.
***
***
Lumille sighed as she watched the three young girls depart in the small boat. They had no idea what would soon be done to them come nightfall. Tears stung at her eyes, but she immediately blinked them away. She knew that the slightest showing of weakness was heavily punished by Miss Aveil...
Lumille turned slowly and began climbing back into the pirate camp, her home of 10 years. She was melancholy every time she saw a little girl holding a spear... she still remembered vividly the day she was taken from her father to become a pirate. The fire... the screaming... the last she ever saw of her father was in a rather messy heap on her own bedroom floor with a spear protruding from his left eye. All of Ikana Village was burned to the ground that morning. She had seen only 6 winters.
Unlike the other gerudo she lived with, Lumille had not been born a pirate. She was the daughter of Tortus, the most recent male gerudo to grace the race of women. He had left the pirates when he had seen 27 winters, wanting to see the town, the world. He had married a woman he met in the Clock Town, the owner of the Stock Pot Inn. They had married, and had a little daughter, Anju. Anju and Lumille had the same father, but not the same mother. Tortus had left his wife and daughter, though Lumille had never dared ask why he'd left. She supposed he had simply gotten bored of town life. Lumille had never met Anju or even her own mother -- Tortus always said she'd died giving birth to Lumille. Still, Lumille had always wondered about her big sister; what she was like, how she looked. Lumille always thought she must be very pretty, since Anju had to the prettiest name she'd ever heard.
Lumille remembered those days... how a simple name had given her so much joy. How simple stories of another family had made her happy, despite how alone she really was.
Now Lumille was hardened at a meager sixteen winters seen, faith in others lost after only six. She just did not understand the point of opening up to someone when it would all just make you more vulnerable than when you started out anyway. Suffer alone and lose alone, no dragging anyone else down. That was just the way she thought.
Little did she know things would soon change.
***
Danté sighed. He had no idea how long he had been in the pirate's cell; all he knew was the persistent and unpleasant grumbling of his stomach.
'It's going to digest itself if I don't get a proper meal soon...' he thought bitterly. He couldn't sleep in the cell - his terror was too great. Every minute he could hear the clashing of spears, the battle cries of the women, the clinking of gold as it was added to the piles. From listening to the pirates speaking with Aveil, he managed to learn a great deal about the fortress he was being held captive in. Much to his surprise, he found out that it was only slightly west from where he had first laid down to sleep in the Spider House. Every minute he was trying to find a way out, but his hunger was beginning to overpower plans of escape in his mind.
Suddenly, Danté jumped. He heard a strange, grinding sound across the room, from behind the wall. He looked up to see a section of the wall disappearing. An instant later he realized it was a door being unlocked and opened, a door he had not even known was there. It opened the rest of the way to reveal a very pretty but distraught-looking gerudo pirate carrying a covered tray with both hands. It seemed to Danté that she could not have seen more than 16 winters in her life. She closed the door behind her, then set the tray down on the floor, and removed the covering. What was revealed shocked Danté more than the visit itself, or even the visitor.
Seven whole fish of seven different species lay in neat filets on a large silver platter. The filets lay on a bed of greens and cheeses Danté had never seen before. He glanced up at her a moment before diving into the food, his stomach rising above his reason. She stood leaning against the wall, unmoving, silent, watching him as he satisfied his hunger. Her face betrayed no emotion, but her eyes spoke volumes of her life to the experienced reader. Her eyes buzzed with thought and consideration, decisions being made every second. They were certainly beautiful, but haunting; they contained more wisdom than befit her age.
'Don't bother to thank me, please.'
He looked up. She smirked.
'I'm long accustomed to being used, believe me. Just know this - this meal is from my own plate. You aren't meant to have any visitors, or any meals. They mean to leave you here until you die.'
Danté froze, a chill dancing along his spine. She moved across the room and sat with her legs spread, feet together, arms wrapped loosely around her bent knees.
'I'm Lumille.'
He quickly downed the rather large bite of trout he had in his mouth.
'Danté.' he extended his hand in greeting. She didn't even move hers. After a moment of silence, he let his own drop back to his plate.
'Sorry about that rope, by the way.' He looked at her again, bewildered by this sudden apology, for what he didn't even know. She smirked again. 'I'm the one who tied the rope around your neck to keep the sack on. Sorry, a bit tight, wasn't it?'
His mouth was hanging open by now. Luckily for Lumille, it was empty.
She spoke of her action against him as casually as if she were telling him what she had had for breakfast. Did she have no morals at all?
'I know. It's sad, isn't it?'
'What's sad?'
'No, scratch that. It's just plain demoralizing, that's what it is. My actions, I mean. How I can just talk about how I kidnapped you and not feel any regret at all.'
Danté hesitated a moment, then nodded. 'That's exactly what I was thinking.'
She gazed absentmindedly at the wall to her left as he finished his meal. After a long pause, she spoke quietly, as if in a trance.
'I killed two people last week. I destroyed another three just an hour ago.'
Danté stayed quiet. He had no idea how to respond to such confessions, from a total stranger no less
'I don't have any hope anymore. I don't have a family, I don't have any friends, I don't have any... feelings. None at all.' She looked to his black eyes. 'You... you have suffered as much as I have. You know what it is to be torn from what can barely be called a family, to see what you call your life fall apart right in front of you, in an instant. I can see it in your eyes. You don't have anything left. Anything.'
'... You know more than you should.' His voice was cold, hard. Talk of family was the last thing he wanted, especially from the one who had him thrown in here in the first place.
She sighed and got up. 'You have no idea how many times I've been told that.' She gazed pointedly at the plate his dinner had once laid on. He looked down and saw a corner of cloth peeking out from under a leaf. He looked up at her in confusion.
'I have only this to say to you, Zora. You'd better not lose hope the way I have, or I'll come after you and eat your children. Don't think I won't.'
She walked out without another word, slamming the door behind her. He waited for the grinding of the lock.
It never came.
***