Sorry! It has been a long time for an update, I know. But yeah, the story is being continued after a long bout of writer's block- but please remember this equation.
Story + Constructive Reviews = Better Story and Happy Author.
Basically, I need reviews as much as Tinkerbell needs her applause (Glee reference, I know! Had to try for the sake of it)
But yeah, let the story continue...
Little flecks of light darted between the apple-green leaves, casting Mhezsura into a small shade. She was laid on the floor, sleeping on a bed of rotten leaves- the smell was warm to her nose. Inviting. Her black hair curled itself around broken twigs, snagging on some sharp outcrops- she was simply sleeping, under a tree. About a mile away from the Waterfront; the dirty, grey waters of the Rumare lapping onto the stony coast, the whistling of the silent forest heavy in her ears. Relaxing. It was about late morning, the sun slightly overcast with gentle, white clouds rolling across the bright sky- she mumbled in her sleep, desperate not to wake. She found her eyes opening, to her annoyance. And she sat up, wringing her hands over her aching eyes. Yawned. Stretched her fingers, smiling as she heard them crack. Stretched her long arms over her head, groaning as the muscles loosened. Looking around, Mhezsura sighed- an apple caught her eye. A shiny-red apple, with a crisp leaf spilled over it. She grabbed it and took a bite. Delicious. Apple-juice ran in little tinkles down her chin, marking her skin a light blue.
Of all the strange places I've slep' in, this one actually of'ers breakfast. For free.
She got up, her back groaning loudly. The air smelt of baby-blue alkanets and cherry-red primrose- she sighed. And began to think. Began to think of what to do. Where to go. Who to see. The 'how' bit didn't concern her. She flicked her head around, behind her to see a small, grassy hill. Peppered with yellow, blue and pink flowers- she began her trek. Back to the south, where it was always warmer.
Always brighter.
Lucien paced up and down- the snap of his black robes tossing and turning as he did so. Patience was never a virtue for him- then again, I am no saint, he thought as a wicked smile crept along his thin lips. Little steps vibrated in the air, along the concrete slabs; and bouncy blonde Antoinetta leaned against the arch doorway in front of him- the little cracks in the Charter wall telling stories beyond her years. Her cold, blue eyes stared into his defiantly- a little smirk attached as well.
"Speaker, you lost the bet. Alor says he saw her... going along the river." she declared; a sprinkle of happiness in her voice. Lucien could remember the river- always in the summer, the Family would walk along the river to a small meadow. And have a simple picnic, with a little mulled wine and meat. He got lost in thought. "Uh, Speaker- don't mean to be rude but... I win! Come on, cought it up!" Antoinetta shrieked, holding out her hand- smile wretched over her little face.
God, how he wanted to crush it. See her surprised face as she slowly choked. Watch the life fade from her eyes. Instead Lucien took a bag out from a robe pocket, and dumped it in her hand. She shrieked and hugged him. Left him dumb-founded as she pranced away, like a little girl.
He shook his head. And began to pace again, across the width of the dingy room.
She felt eyes on her. Trained eyes watching her steps, as she scrambled across the steep banks of a large river. The water below churned, and collapsed over little rock outcrops plodded into the current. Her small hands tried to cling to the mud, soiling her leather suit deep-brown- green grass marred with mud, and no trees nearby. Oh well.
Trudging through the mud, it clung to her like a second skin; solid land! Cracked earth under her fingertips, she kicked her feet around in the sludge- struggling, she withdrew her Blade of Woe (tarnished with crusty, little red dots)and impaled it into a large fissure, about an inch from her head. Grunting, she pulled herself up- slithering through the mud, until her waist hit the earth. Like a feline, she grabbed her dagger and rushed to her feet. Finally, her journey could go ahead.
Except for that. In the distance, she could see the silhouette of a person. It came closer, revealing an Imperial face. With an iron shortsword withdrawn, in an open stance towards Sonnerset. Flaps of fur slapped in the breeze and a sneer ripped across his face. She smirked, taking a mock bow. He began to stride forward, the sword going up into the stormy sky. She lifted her head up, and ran for him. Her right hand at her side, her woe-blade stretched out. Crash of bodies, spill of blood. His shocked face, a backhand blow to the windpipe and down he went. Coughing then spluttering then nothing at all. Rummaging through his pockets, she found nothing. Damn! Not even a gold piece.
Slap.
The hit winded her, knocked her backwards. A warm, copper taste filed into her mouth and her nose felt numb. She snarled, rushing up; baring her teeth towards the attacker. Only to find a male corpse, slumped over the dead Imperial bandit. Smouldering. In death, she could see he was an Argonian- judging by what was left of his tail. Burnt scales with no colour, no flavour all over his body. Wel', ain't tha' a dam' shame(!) Die young, and leave a barely ther' co'pse. Bu' I wonder... ah.
She had turned around, to meet a person in black. Dunmer, about her age more or less. Short, spiked, blue-black hair. Bloodshot eyes, and sharp features laced with boredom.
"By the way, you can say thanks." he said, with a thick Cyrodiilic accent. An 'outlander' by all means. The way he carried himself around- he practically swaggered. An effemina'e ou'lander. This can only be so good. Then again, he was pretty cute. Not in a human way. In a Mer-like way, he was... interesting. Not her type though. She preferred something...tastier. And not in tha' way.
"Thanks. Wha's your name?" Mhezsura said, lazily sweeping aside strands of her muddy-black hair. He stepped past her, walking along a little dirt path.
"Banus Alor. You must be Mhezsura. Come with me." he beckoned with a gloved hand.
And Mhezsura followed.