Flandre's Melancholy

by shimonosu

Exiled from Gensokyo, forbidden from entering the underworld, hell and the outside world for her past mistake, Wandering the new world after her long solitude in self pity. Story takes about a thousand years after the events of eosd , Flandre will be out of character (mentally mature, able to fully control herself etc.) Story is about world-building, there won't be much action.

2. Chapter 1

There was a person standing by the other side of the fence, probably a watcher, she thought.

In some villages, there would be a guard in rotation from amongst the townsfolk.

Not to fend the village, but to warn others from danger.

She greeted the villager with a smile, flashing her sharp canines ''good evenings.''

The villager noticeably tensed, she was a rather bulky woman, but kinda on the shorter side yet, she wasn't shorter than the monster, hardly anyone was.

After a short break ''evenin'' she replied. Her hand was going for her spear, it was a clumsily made spear with an arrowhead attached to it's tip, not a real spear.

''Could I enter?'' the monster asked.

The guard looked perplexed by the question. Then, she was terrified.

She knew that the smarter a monster is, the warier one must be.

And this one, seemed almost civilized, that terrified her.

She didn't think she could survive, yet, she ran. She ran faster than she ever had in her life. The monster didn't give chase, but she had no way of knowing that, she wouldn't look back.

The monster was growing tired of waiting, it has been almost half an hour since the watcher left, she decided to sit, after all, a sitting posture was less threatening than a standing one, not that she was tired, though she wouldn't admit even if she was.

She didn't like waiting, thoughts of going to the mill crossed her mind. She'd want a place to stay the night, even if she was nocturnal, she didn't like the cold.

As she was thinking, some people arrived by the fence.

She could instantly distinguish one of them as the village chef, or elder some villages called them, He was old and stern looking, way past his fifties, he looked wise, he still had his hair, yet it's colour had left him long ago.

One of them was the watcher she had met earlier and the other 2 were young men, possibly the only ones left in the village after the draft.

Plump one had brown hair, and he had a real spear in his hand, he was the chief's son, she deducted, fat and wealthy.

The taller boy had black and oily hair he was unkempt, and he was much leaner. Like the woman, he had a poorly-made spear with an arrowhead for its tip.

''Good evening, friends'' She greeted them all. ''Do you perchance have a place where i could stay the night?''