Disclaimer: Claims have been dissed. Happy?
***
It was incredible, just as Danté had always heard told. He had never seen anything like it. The central clock tower peeked over the geometrically painted town wall, the light rotating slowly to shine on all of Termina. Minutes ago, Danté had felt his legs would dissolve if he had had to take another step. The ordeal of his imprisonment in the pirate's fortress had almost completely drained him of all his energy and he hadn't eaten all day. Now, when Danté saw that light shining through the clear night, it felt as if it were almost guiding him to a new life, a second try at what had been stolen from him. He nearly ran forward, all weariness forgotten; the sand was compressing under his feet leaving footprints that he hoped would never again feel his touch.
Then, as he approached the white-blue wall showing the border of the Western Ocean territory, he saw something strange.
There was a small area of plain ground, leading to a ramp. At the top of the ramp... his chest constricted. At the top of the ramp, the ground was green... green as he had never before seen.
His immediate reaction was fear. At the ocean, green had always meant danger, slime, and decay... poison. He wondered if the ground was poisonous. He looked around himself to see if he could find some sort of bridge that led to the town. His heart sank down to the approximate altitude of the soles of his feet. He sank to the ground, pounding one strong fist into the sand. Tears fell freely down his face. He had been so close, so close to a new home, so close to a life of his own. He looked up again. This time, he saw something else.
A stone path leading from the ramp straight to the entrance of the town.
He bolted to his feet, and flung himself over the wall without thinking for a minute. Without looking at what was on the other side, or even the wall itself.
The consequence was catching one of the straps of his pack on the steel spikes rising out of the wall. The strap pulled him back, and next he knew the back of his skull smashed against the strong stone wall. His vision went fuzzy, doubled, then quadrupled. He fell limply to the ground, sand filling his mouth and nostrils.
As all went quiet, he dimly noted several spinning, spiky, green speckled Leevers making their way to his unmoving body.
***
The night was colder than she had anticipated. He rubbed her arms as she backed into the seclusion of the doorway she usually spent her nights working. Most looked down upon her profession; she tried not to think about it. Usually, once a man had begun, he didn't care if she did anything or not, so long as she let him have his way. Unless the man was unusually attractive, she just leaned against the wall and let her mind wander. They never noticed anyway, so long as she moaned every now and then.
Tonight's second and current client was awful with kissing - she highly doubted he was anywhere near sober.
'I haven't paid this month's rent yet...' she thought as she let him go.
By now his hands were on her breasts, pinching and twisting horribly. His pants had dropped long ago, and all that remained was for him to pull off hers before the ordeal began. After he had done so, he took her legs in his hands by just above the knee and slammed her against the wall.
Five minutes later she was leaning against the wall, drawing in another client.
As he pressed money into her hand, she thought 'Well, I've paid it now.'
She didn't care if her job was filthy, or what it did to her - she didn't have very long to go on in any case.
***
Warm, so warm... almost hot. Snapping, crackling... so familiar.. fire. It was fire. He moved his fingers slightly and felt that the cloth draped over him was very coarse - and most likely very inexpensive. He moved to roll over, then bolted upright, his eyes flying open, scanning everywhere for the Leevers. He immediately regretted it, however, as a blinding pain shot through what seemed to be every nerve in his body. He cried out and flopped back down onto what he found was a small, slightly hard bed.
'Good morning to you, too.'
He jumped as a rather tired-looking young woman walked into the room holding her thin blue robe loosely closed at her neck. She had no fins, her skin was a peach color... he decided she must be a human. Danté had only ever met one other before - the merchant who had sold him his trousers. In her other hand was a white mug, its contents steaming. He could tell she had been up much too late the previous night, since her voice was abnormally low, grainy and somewhat irregular. She smiled gently, setting the mug down on the small wooden table beside him. He saw it was what seemed to be very watery soup. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was sardine soup. At least she knew Zora ate only fish.
He gingerly sat up and, wincing, propped himself up against the headboard. He saw she was busying herself with something in the corner with her back to him, and took the opportunity to look about the room from his bed. The bed was pushed into the back left corner, with a small table beside it where his soup rested. The door was right at the foot of the bed, and a small desk and chair were in the front right corner. At the foot of the bed there was a small, beaten up chest of drawers. The only window in the room was so high it almost touched the ceiling, in the center of the wall and so small Danté didn't think he could have fit his head through it. The only curtain was a ragged, maroon cloth stretched on a metal beam above the window.
'What's wrong?'
He looked to the woman. She was frowning, and pointing at the mug. 'Drink your soup. I know it's not much, but you were in a bad way when I found you. Anything is better than nothing.'
Danté took the mug from the table and took a sip. It tasted as watery as it looked.
'Uh...' He struggled to find something to say. 'Miss... Where am I?'
She had dragged the small chair under the window and was standing on it to draw the pathetic drape to the side. A small shaft of sunlight struggled to be seen in the otherwise dark room.
She turned and sat at the foot of the bed.
'Just call me Telia. You're in my flat. It's above the Curiosity Shop, West Clock Town. I was out for a walk in the field when I found you. You were getting ripped apart by some Leevers, and it seemed a Wolfos or two had had some fun with you, too. I saw the tracks in the sand.' Before he could speak, she was pulling the cloth off of him. He would have yanked it back instantly - he saw she had removed both his cape and trousers - if he hadn't been shocked stiff at the damage that had been done to his arms, torso and legs.
The worst were his legs. One long gash stretched from his left hip right down to his ankle - definitely produced by a Wolfos. His right leg was covered in smaller, shallower cuts, most likely from the Leevers. There were enough, however, that if he were to bend his knee he would break open about fifty of them again.
'Did you... did you bring me here?'
'Yeah... you were in pretty bad shape, as I said, so I hiked and toted you back up here. I cleaned all the cuts as soon as I got you into bed, so you don't have to worry about getting horribly infected and disfigured or anything.' She poured a clear, strong-smelling liquid onto a white cloth as she spoke, and Danté's face reddened. 'As soon as I got you into bed,' weren't exactly the words he would have used, but at least she was friendly enough, even if she was a bit... unorthodox. She cleaned his cuts with the cloth as he winced, and she hummed a little tune as she worked.
'What song is that?' he asked, wanting to fill the silence.
'Oh, this. Sorry if it bothers you, it's just a song my father taught me when I was little. He was a minstrel. Didn't pay much, but he loved his work. Mom always hated it when he'd sing at home, said it bothered her rheumatism' She laughed.
'...oh.'
She unscrewed a jar and began spreading a creamy, pale green lotion on his deepest cuts.
'They're both gone now.' She was silent a moment. 'Well? Cough up.' She smiled. 'Where'd you come from?'
He averted his eyes. 'The ocean.'
'I guessed that much when I saw you were a Zora and all. I mean, your folks? What about them?'
He tried to find the best way to answer without telling this stranger too much. 'I was sent away by my mother and brother.' He hesitated. 'They did it because I'm... different.'
'What about your pop?'
'I don't have a father.'
She stopped working and looked at him a moment. '..oh. I'm sorry.'
'That's fine.' he said insincerely. He looked around, wanting to change the subject. 'Where's my stuff, Telia?'
'Oh, I put your bag in one of the drawers over there-' she motioned with her head to the chest of drawers. '-and your guitar is under the bed. That's one nice instrument you've got there, bud.'
'Thanks. It was my father's.'
She squinted at him. 'You just said you didn't have a father.'
'I don't have one worth mentioning. My mother met him, they had some fun, he disappeared. His best friend, my uncle-' he stopped short as the pain of leaving his Uncle came back.
'Let me guess. Your uncle had your dad's guitar and gave it to you.'
'Pretty much.'
'That's rough... I'm sorry again.' She paused. 'What's your name, anyway?'
'Danté.'
'Well, Danté... drink your soup before it gets cold.'
He took a sip and, as he realized how little this woman had just by looking at the room, it was suddenly the best tasting soup he had ever had.
***
***
It was incredible, just as Danté had always heard told. He had never seen anything like it. The central clock tower peeked over the geometrically painted town wall, the light rotating slowly to shine on all of Termina. Minutes ago, Danté had felt his legs would dissolve if he had had to take another step. The ordeal of his imprisonment in the pirate's fortress had almost completely drained him of all his energy and he hadn't eaten all day. Now, when Danté saw that light shining through the clear night, it felt as if it were almost guiding him to a new life, a second try at what had been stolen from him. He nearly ran forward, all weariness forgotten; the sand was compressing under his feet leaving footprints that he hoped would never again feel his touch.
Then, as he approached the white-blue wall showing the border of the Western Ocean territory, he saw something strange.
There was a small area of plain ground, leading to a ramp. At the top of the ramp... his chest constricted. At the top of the ramp, the ground was green... green as he had never before seen.
His immediate reaction was fear. At the ocean, green had always meant danger, slime, and decay... poison. He wondered if the ground was poisonous. He looked around himself to see if he could find some sort of bridge that led to the town. His heart sank down to the approximate altitude of the soles of his feet. He sank to the ground, pounding one strong fist into the sand. Tears fell freely down his face. He had been so close, so close to a new home, so close to a life of his own. He looked up again. This time, he saw something else.
A stone path leading from the ramp straight to the entrance of the town.
He bolted to his feet, and flung himself over the wall without thinking for a minute. Without looking at what was on the other side, or even the wall itself.
The consequence was catching one of the straps of his pack on the steel spikes rising out of the wall. The strap pulled him back, and next he knew the back of his skull smashed against the strong stone wall. His vision went fuzzy, doubled, then quadrupled. He fell limply to the ground, sand filling his mouth and nostrils.
As all went quiet, he dimly noted several spinning, spiky, green speckled Leevers making their way to his unmoving body.
***
The night was colder than she had anticipated. He rubbed her arms as she backed into the seclusion of the doorway she usually spent her nights working. Most looked down upon her profession; she tried not to think about it. Usually, once a man had begun, he didn't care if she did anything or not, so long as she let him have his way. Unless the man was unusually attractive, she just leaned against the wall and let her mind wander. They never noticed anyway, so long as she moaned every now and then.
Tonight's second and current client was awful with kissing - she highly doubted he was anywhere near sober.
'I haven't paid this month's rent yet...' she thought as she let him go.
By now his hands were on her breasts, pinching and twisting horribly. His pants had dropped long ago, and all that remained was for him to pull off hers before the ordeal began. After he had done so, he took her legs in his hands by just above the knee and slammed her against the wall.
Five minutes later she was leaning against the wall, drawing in another client.
As he pressed money into her hand, she thought 'Well, I've paid it now.'
She didn't care if her job was filthy, or what it did to her - she didn't have very long to go on in any case.
***
Warm, so warm... almost hot. Snapping, crackling... so familiar.. fire. It was fire. He moved his fingers slightly and felt that the cloth draped over him was very coarse - and most likely very inexpensive. He moved to roll over, then bolted upright, his eyes flying open, scanning everywhere for the Leevers. He immediately regretted it, however, as a blinding pain shot through what seemed to be every nerve in his body. He cried out and flopped back down onto what he found was a small, slightly hard bed.
'Good morning to you, too.'
He jumped as a rather tired-looking young woman walked into the room holding her thin blue robe loosely closed at her neck. She had no fins, her skin was a peach color... he decided she must be a human. Danté had only ever met one other before - the merchant who had sold him his trousers. In her other hand was a white mug, its contents steaming. He could tell she had been up much too late the previous night, since her voice was abnormally low, grainy and somewhat irregular. She smiled gently, setting the mug down on the small wooden table beside him. He saw it was what seemed to be very watery soup. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was sardine soup. At least she knew Zora ate only fish.
He gingerly sat up and, wincing, propped himself up against the headboard. He saw she was busying herself with something in the corner with her back to him, and took the opportunity to look about the room from his bed. The bed was pushed into the back left corner, with a small table beside it where his soup rested. The door was right at the foot of the bed, and a small desk and chair were in the front right corner. At the foot of the bed there was a small, beaten up chest of drawers. The only window in the room was so high it almost touched the ceiling, in the center of the wall and so small Danté didn't think he could have fit his head through it. The only curtain was a ragged, maroon cloth stretched on a metal beam above the window.
'What's wrong?'
He looked to the woman. She was frowning, and pointing at the mug. 'Drink your soup. I know it's not much, but you were in a bad way when I found you. Anything is better than nothing.'
Danté took the mug from the table and took a sip. It tasted as watery as it looked.
'Uh...' He struggled to find something to say. 'Miss... Where am I?'
She had dragged the small chair under the window and was standing on it to draw the pathetic drape to the side. A small shaft of sunlight struggled to be seen in the otherwise dark room.
She turned and sat at the foot of the bed.
'Just call me Telia. You're in my flat. It's above the Curiosity Shop, West Clock Town. I was out for a walk in the field when I found you. You were getting ripped apart by some Leevers, and it seemed a Wolfos or two had had some fun with you, too. I saw the tracks in the sand.' Before he could speak, she was pulling the cloth off of him. He would have yanked it back instantly - he saw she had removed both his cape and trousers - if he hadn't been shocked stiff at the damage that had been done to his arms, torso and legs.
The worst were his legs. One long gash stretched from his left hip right down to his ankle - definitely produced by a Wolfos. His right leg was covered in smaller, shallower cuts, most likely from the Leevers. There were enough, however, that if he were to bend his knee he would break open about fifty of them again.
'Did you... did you bring me here?'
'Yeah... you were in pretty bad shape, as I said, so I hiked and toted you back up here. I cleaned all the cuts as soon as I got you into bed, so you don't have to worry about getting horribly infected and disfigured or anything.' She poured a clear, strong-smelling liquid onto a white cloth as she spoke, and Danté's face reddened. 'As soon as I got you into bed,' weren't exactly the words he would have used, but at least she was friendly enough, even if she was a bit... unorthodox. She cleaned his cuts with the cloth as he winced, and she hummed a little tune as she worked.
'What song is that?' he asked, wanting to fill the silence.
'Oh, this. Sorry if it bothers you, it's just a song my father taught me when I was little. He was a minstrel. Didn't pay much, but he loved his work. Mom always hated it when he'd sing at home, said it bothered her rheumatism' She laughed.
'...oh.'
She unscrewed a jar and began spreading a creamy, pale green lotion on his deepest cuts.
'They're both gone now.' She was silent a moment. 'Well? Cough up.' She smiled. 'Where'd you come from?'
He averted his eyes. 'The ocean.'
'I guessed that much when I saw you were a Zora and all. I mean, your folks? What about them?'
He tried to find the best way to answer without telling this stranger too much. 'I was sent away by my mother and brother.' He hesitated. 'They did it because I'm... different.'
'What about your pop?'
'I don't have a father.'
She stopped working and looked at him a moment. '..oh. I'm sorry.'
'That's fine.' he said insincerely. He looked around, wanting to change the subject. 'Where's my stuff, Telia?'
'Oh, I put your bag in one of the drawers over there-' she motioned with her head to the chest of drawers. '-and your guitar is under the bed. That's one nice instrument you've got there, bud.'
'Thanks. It was my father's.'
She squinted at him. 'You just said you didn't have a father.'
'I don't have one worth mentioning. My mother met him, they had some fun, he disappeared. His best friend, my uncle-' he stopped short as the pain of leaving his Uncle came back.
'Let me guess. Your uncle had your dad's guitar and gave it to you.'
'Pretty much.'
'That's rough... I'm sorry again.' She paused. 'What's your name, anyway?'
'Danté.'
'Well, Danté... drink your soup before it gets cold.'
He took a sip and, as he realized how little this woman had just by looking at the room, it was suddenly the best tasting soup he had ever had.
***