Okay on with chapter 2. There'll be more translations to "les mots français" (or in English the French words) So here we go.
Chapitre deux: Rendez-vous avec L'inconnu
(Chapter two- meeting with the unknown.)
The sound of hoof beats rang out, in a heavy laboured manner. The owner of said hoof beats and metal clanking of horse shoes was searching, dithering. There was purpose to their searching but with a lack of enthusiasm. A search that had taken so long. So much effort and fighting, bloodshed and anger, then just as he was so close to reaching the light, the prize, the solution…another meander in the path occurs. The cloaked stranger listened closely, nothing. Not another living soul could be heard. The stranger cursed the bitter cold that was now closing in around the town.
It was winter, not that you could tell. After the dark one unleashed his powers on the small nation, seasons didn't matter. The land had become barren. Only certain areas could, and were permitted to, grow crops. Those that grew the crops however, saw neither hide nor hair of the vast amount of money that was the result of these crops. Nobles owned the land, and in theory the people who grew the crops, meaning that half the money obtained from sales went straight to their rather heavily laden pockets, and the other half, to the dark one. Those who did the labour, who actually grew and harvested the grain, fruit and vegetables, who tended the livestock, milked, sheared, herded or culled the beasts, never saw a single coin. The noble's "tended" the workers you could say, though not so much that would decrease the weight of their pockets. They provided houses, or to be more precise…shacks, they fed them, seven loaves per household, slab of butter, a fish, some milk, maybe a small jug of Meade if they felt generous. This ration however was meant to last a week, to an average family of six, a maximum of three days if not rationed properly.
The shadow trudged on, the streets empty and cold, dead to the world. As the two meandered the streets, the rider noticed a change in décor. Instead of the uniform slate or sandstone, the stone became granite, the cobbles were no longer slap-dash and ramshackle, but sleek and seemed to glimmer. The stranger smirked in realisation at his current location. He had stumbled upon one of the fabled, Saint's Avenues. These streets were impossible to find and actually recognise. It wasn't that they were hidden by the maze of other alleys and walkways, but as fable stated, that they were hidden by the saints themselves. Only those pure of heart and soul could find said streets. The stranger smirked once again, this time at the thought of being pure. He was only here because of his fate, his task, he certainly was no angel. The grim faced marble gargoyles stared down upon the travellers, their expression never changing.
"Not exactly doing your job are you? Not if I'm here, or am I an exception to the rule?" He asked the stone faces, receiving no reply.
Diablo tensed beneath the rider's seat, his ears suddenly becoming pricked and alert. Before the stranger could ask his steed for an explanation, he heard it. It drifted through the alleyway, light and melodic. The rider dug his heels into Diablo's sides, without protest as the black stallion lurched forward in the direction of the sound. It grew louder as they cantered on, skidding round a sharp bend in the alley. He gave a squeeze on the reins, slowing Diablo to a trot, and then to a walk, despite the fact that in the stallion's excitement, it rose to a half prance, half trot. They were close, just around this next bend. And what he saw, what those eyes focused upon beneath that shadowy cloak, did not disappoint.
Leaning casually against the cool, granite walls, tossing a heavy clinking pouch, was a cloaked figure. The cloak was a deep scarlet, concealing the mysterious figure. There was one fact, however that couldn't be hidden by the folds of the garment, the figure was female. He could smell the femininity rising from her in a sweet hue that made his tongue instantly lap at the edges of his hidden lips. Although he couldn't see her, he knew she was beautiful, strange as it might seem, but he felt drawn to her. Him. The one that never got close to anyone, who found the word social to be poisonous. He had never felt any feelings towards anyone, except maybe hate.
She must be the one. There's no mistaking it.
As she leisurely tossed the heavy pouch, she sung in a quiet, melodic voice. There was one other feature that was distinguishable from beneath that cloak…her eyes. Gods, her eyes were amazing, he felt his already quite cold heart, stop, warming a little. They were crimson, or burnt sienna, any colour that could describe flames engulfing something, could describe her eyes. They seemed to shine from within the folds of scarlet fabric. He had only just seen this girl and yet he was already falling. And yet, that was what she was, a girl. Young and innocent in comparison to him. There was probably no difference in there ages, both young in years, but in experience, he was ancient. He had seen war, pestilence, bloodshed and heartbreak, and yet to him it made little difference to him, he was cold to it all, until now.
She was different, the way she sang, the way she stood, everything about her seemed so youthful and innocent. If she was to see half the things he'd seen, well…he dreaded to think.
Just then his train of thought was interrupted by the entrance of another figure.
"You're late." The female spoke, her voice never losing that beautiful melodic sound.
"I got held up; there were guards everywhere thanks to your little stunt." The new figure was obviously younger, maybe by about 2-3 years, he was probably around 18. He wore a thin brown cloak that hid his face, but not all of his reddish brown hair. Tufts of it sprang out at angles from beneath the hood.
"Well be thankful I pulled that 'little stunt', otherwise you wouldn't have this." She tossed the small pouch at the boy, who caught it easily. The movement of him catchin the heavy pouch caused his hood to drop, revealing his face. He was a tanned youth, probably quite handsome to most girls. He grinned as he loosened the drawstrings on the pouch, taking a peek at its glimmering contents.
"Typical Daisuke, always about the goods." The figure joked, letting a girlish giggle escape her lips. She moved her silk gloved hands up to her hood, lowering it from her head. The shadowed man could have groaned in pleasure at her appearance, if it wasn't for Diablo shifting beneath him, gradually falling asleep, causing the riders position to become rather lopsided.
She was breathtaking. Her auburn hair fell in straight feathery tendrils, down to the top of her breasts. She shook it lightly, causing it to glimmer in the moonlight. Her lips were a soft pink, and her pale cheeks were dusted with a slight rosy hue. Her eyes were just as poignant without the darkness to frame them; they seemed to glow with a fiery light. She wore simple red skirts, with a white, slightly open (by three buttons) blouse. On top of the blouse she wore a scarlet corset, framed with gold piping, it was slightly surprising that a peasant would be wearing such nice clothing, but considering she was a thief, it was quite normal. On her feet was a pair of fitted brown boots, a strap of leather wound its way around each boot, ending at the join of her foot and ankle, with a glimmering silver buckle. As she lifted her skirts slightly to retrieve another pouch, the shadow noticed that the boots ended above her knee, and for some reason caused him to once again lick his lips lustfully. A lace garter held the second pouch along with a silver dagger, sheathed in a pearl coloured scabbard.
As she retrieved the pouch, a strange feeling came over her, as if they were being watched. But how could that be? They were in Saint's Avenue, not many travelled or rather could enter these streets. However the feeling remained. Straightening herself slowly, she frowned causing her companion to falter.
"What's wrong, you're acting as if you've seen a ghost, Sor..." he was cut off by her sudden answer.
"I think we're being watched Daisuke, am not sure who though. But we're definitely being watched. And it's someone powerful." She spoke with a slight fear. She froze at the answer of a third, unfamiliar voice.
"You couldn't be more right."
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Well there we go folks.
Read and review mon petite chou fleurs!
Mwahhhhhhhh kisses for all.
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