K'ger: Ok, well, I've said it once, and I'm gonna say it again. This chapter is...disturbing. Really, I'm starting to question my mental state. Silence is Golden was fluffy and cutsey, this story is...dark. So far at least. you've been warned, and I have to important things to talk about at the bottom.
Slaves' Mark
"Mommy, what's a Licky Licky?" Kara asked from the floor. She and her brother were laying on their stomachs, pouring with wide eyes over a heavily illustrated book that Jack had given them both for Mid-Winter. Malon smiled softly, and knelt beside her daughter, looking at the page of the book she was reading.
On the page, an inked picture rested, depicting a strange, cylindrical mass of squishy flesh. She read the description underneath, and gave a soft laugh.
"It's a Like Like, not a Licky Licky, dear. It's a monster that lives near water." She said, smiling, ruffling the little girl's strawberry-blonde hair with a gentle hand as she stood. She moved over to the kitchen, and after rolling up her sleeves, started to wash the leftover dishes from the dinner they had finished earlier.
She jolted when the front door opened, hinges betraying the person's entrance with loud squeaking sounds. Oh, I guess Link never got around to oiling those before he left.
Kara and Rinku both leapt to their feet immediately, crying out in excitement and running toward the two people who had entered, scrabbling against their legs, laughing.
"Oh, hi Jack, McKenna." Malon said, smiling. Finishing up her washing, Malon walked over and greeted her friends, hugging both of them before reaching down and bringing Rinku into her arms when he uttered a great yawn.
"Can you excuse me for a moment? It's the children's bedtime."
Jack and McKenna nodded, and watched as she took a yawning Kara by the hand and lead both children upstairs to their bedroom. McKenna moved over to one of the chairs and sat down with a sigh, while Jack strolled, hands clasped behind his back and eyes wandering the floor.
He stopped when he caught sight of the book that still lay open on the floor, and reaching down, he brought the book into his hands and began to thumb through with amusement.
"Huh, I guess this was a good present, looks like they like it." He muttered, smiling as he perused the pages. A few minutes later, Malon came out of the bedroom, closing the door with a soft click behind her and making her way down the stairs.
"Malon, Blondie hasn't come back yet…has he?" McKenna stated quietly, looking at her with a concerned expression. Malon shook her head, and moved over to one of the windows, staring out at the black velvet sky. The view from this window brought back her hope, if she could see the moon, then Link could too. Wherever he was.
She and both of her houseguests jumped when someone else knocked on the door.
"Who could that be at this hour of night?" She breathed, striding over to the front door and peering through the peephole. Standing on the other side was a man. He was short, with his hair shaved down to bare stubble, and over his head he wore a strange, red and white hat that matched the uniform he wore. Strapped to his back, he had a banner that read "Inter-regional mail".
She opened the door, eyebrows raised as she met the gaze of the strange man on her doorstep.
"Uh…hello? Can I help you?" She asked, looking at the shorter man with a tired expression. McKenna stood from her chair, and taking a hold of Jack's arm, she followed him over to the door, curious and eager to catch a glimpse of their late-night visitor.
"Would you happen to know a Mrs. Malon Escorlan?" The man asked, his voice startling when first being heard. It was high pitched, with a very un-masculine tone to it, but Malon shook herself of the shock that assaulted her at first, quickly answering him.
"That would be me."
"Oh, of course ma'am!" He yelped, reaching into a satchel at his hip and rummaging through, searching for something particular. After a few tense moments, he sighed and produced an envelope. The corners were bent, and the return address was smudged, but Malon found that the paper inside was still intact, as she ripped the envelope open with agile fingers.
But as she read the first few words, she looked up, and found that the postman was still standing on her doorstep.
"Um…is there anything else I can do for you?" She asked awkwardly, holding the letter in her hands and looking at him with an unsure gaze. It seemed to take him a moment to realize what she meant, and then a sheepish look crossed his youthful features.
"O-Oh! R-r-right! Of course!" He gasped, quickly turning away and bolting out the front gates without another word. Malon shook her head softly, and continued reading the letter. Jack and McKenna watched, occasionally exchanging nervous glances when Malon remained silent, and when she took a look, McKenna's eyes widened.
Malon was still staring at the letter with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape as she looked at the paper in her hands.
"Hey," Jack said softly, pulling away from McKenna and moving over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"
She swallowed roughly, closing her eyes and letting her head tip back. A few tears slipped down her cheeks.
"My sister just passed away…"
The wagon stopped. Link looked up, startled by the sudden stillness. Benji and Annalise were still asleep against the wall, Annalise resting her head against her brother's shoulder. He stood up when he heard a soft click sound, and turned, narrowing his eyes when the door swung open.
The two wanderers from before were standing there, ropes hanging from their hands. He took a few steps back, but failed to escape what was coming for him. The woman lunged forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and restraining him by holding one arm tightly, bending it in an obscure way that made the bones pop. He gave a soft yelp and softened, relinquishing his need to fight for sheer pain relief.
The next thing he knew, the ropes had been tied tightly around his torso, binding his arms behind him and wrapping around his wrists for good measure. He was dragged out of the wagon, and thrown onto a nearby stool.
Glancing around, he found that the caravan had entered the city. Huge, brown brick walls surrounded him whichever way he looked, and looming over them, clawing at the sky, was the clock tower, perpetually ticking the time away. The wagons had created a small half-circle near one of the entrances, making a sheltered area for the group of wanderers. From between the wagons, passersby peered in with interest sparking in their eyes, wondering who the newcomers were, and what they meant for their city.
The sun was setting, already dropping down below the crest of the high, protective walls, and resulting in an eerie purplish hue that swirled across the otherwise black velvet sky. A fire had been lit in the middle of the half-circle, and a low growl rose instinctively from his throat when the woman from before approached him.
When he struggled against his ropes, one of his two captors grabbed his neck from behind, thumb and forefingers digging painfully into the skin behind his ears.
"Hold still," a male voice hissed, fingers tightening on his neck. His head was forced back, the skin on his throat tightening as he stretched back. He watched through the bottom of his eyes as the woman from before came up to him, reaching out and pressing her fingers against his neck.
His eyes flicked to the left as a younger woman came up beside him, a hinged box in hand. She opened the box with careful hands, displaying it for the woman. The blood ran from his face as he saw what was inside. Nestled tightly in the red velvet that lined the box, ten glistening white bones rested, thick on one end, thin and sharp as needles on the other. Next to those was a small corked bottle of thick black liquid.
The woman gingerly took one of the bones in her right hand, and leaning over, touched the sharp-end to his skin. A few beads of sweat rolled down the back of his neck as the sharp end of the bone pressed a little harder against the left side of his neck.
She gave a sudden burst of strength, and he cried out as the needle-like bone jabbed into his skin. She yanked it from his skin just as quickly, and repeated, again and again. Deft strokes of her hand brought the needle to his skin over and over again, jabbing into his neck and, as a result, fresh red blood trailed down onto his chest and shoulder, staining his off-white shirt an ugly crimson.
He gritted his teeth as the needle jabbed in again, sending fresh waves of pain through his flesh. After close to twenty minutes, the woman finally stopped mere seconds before he would have lost his composure, and wiped the needle clean on a rag, then wiped the blood from his neck.
He cried out again when she rubbed the black liquid over the wounds. The liquid stung in the deep wounds, and her hand disrupted the skin, making the back of his knees feel weak with pain. The woman used nearly the whole bottle of liquid, and when she was thoroughly satisfied with her handiwork, sent him off to the wagon again.
He collapsed when one of the men shoved him inside, and for a moment, he let himself lay there, fighting the urge to faint again. After he collected himself, he dragged himself into a sitting position. It was then that he noticed the bowl of water nearby, and looking onto the reflective surface, he grimaced at what he saw.
Spreading across his neck was an intricate tattoo, permanent black lines swirling across his skin in an everlasting pattern. Means of identification, nothing more. He had been marked, and forevermore he'd have to live with the mark of a slave…
He brought his fingers to the still-throbbing wounds on his neck, wincing as they touched, pain flushing through his veins. It had been four hours since the tattoo had been forced upon him, and it still ached, and it probably would ache for quite some time.
He already hated it.
Voices came at the door, causing him to freeze. He listened intently, straining his ears to hear what the voices were saying.
"We can skip the formalities, Mistress Fala," an unfamiliar voice cooed. It was obviously a woman. "You know why I'm here."
"Yes of course. Here, the one you'd be interested in is in here." Mistress Fala's voice answered, being followed by a soft, dreadful click. The door swung open, light from the city flooding inside and illuminating him with a soft yellow hue.
Two women stood outside, Mistress Fala and an unknown woman with hair the shade of night and harsh, scrutinizing green eyes that took in his every feature. Gracefully, and with great ease, the unknown woman stepped into the wagon, and approached him, towering over where he still sat, cross-legged on the floor. He pretended not to notice her, looking straight at the wooden walls of his prison, his jaw firmly, stubbornly set.
He snorted softly when a different pair of hands came from nowhere and forced him to his feet. Glancing back, he could see that Mistress Fala had entered the wagon, and was forcing him to stand before the other woman.
She leaned in close, peering into his eyes and giving a soft, barely audible laugh of approval as she looked him over from head-to-toe.
"Strong chin, finely featured. This one is of noble blood. But," she mused, suddenly grabbing his chin between her thumb and forefingers and forcing his head up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "His eyes are strong and proud, like those of a feral beast. The eyes of a thief."
A low growl rose yet again from deep in his throat as she rubbed small circles on his skin. Fuming, he finally snapped when the woman slowly dragged a slender finger across the surface of his lips, and he clamped his jaw shut, teeth crushing down on her fingertip.
She gave no cry of pain, gave no indication that she even felt it. She merely stood there, eyes flashing slightly as his incisors ground into her perfect skin, drawing small traces of blood. He grimaced at the flavor, and reluctantly, he let go of her finger, spitting the blood out and glaring at her defiantly.
"What's your price?" The woman asked Mistress Fala, looking at him with amusement. Mistress Fala chortled slightly, tightening her grip on his wrists.
"Hmm, I was thinking somewhere around 10,000…but…tell you what, repeat customer discount. 5,000 take it or leave it."
He glanced aside as the woman pondered the steep price Mistress Fala had laid out, and saw that Benji and Annalise were still sitting against the wall, watching with frightened eyes as he was held, and his fate decided.
"5,000 rupees is a lot to pay for a slave. All I need is someone to work the smithy."
"Ah, but he's worth every penny you'll spend."
The woman laughed, as if at a joke that she was intent on keeping to herself.
"I'll take him…"
The inside of the Stone Tower was dark, and all around, the long-empty rooms were flooded with sudden life. Energy flowed through the room that the group had entered, making the air feel thick and causing one of the shadows' to cough. The horses stopped at the edge of a pitch-black ravine, throwing back their heads and letting loose soft nickering sounds of worry and apprehension.
The woman licked her lips before calling out.
"Your Grace, I humbly present your prizes."
Ahead of them, the blackness seemed to take on a life of its own, different colors appearing and creating eye-catching patterns. A few seconds later, the colors took on a human shape. The shape of a human woman. Torches suddenly exploded into life, flames flickering and illuminating the darkness, revealing what lie beyond.
A woman was indeed there, sitting with one leg crossed on a dark, twisted throne. Her hair was an arbitrary shade of violet that glimmered in the firelight, hanging around her shoulders in lush, curled locks. Her eyes were a startling yellow, with green around the edges of her irises, and when she parted her plush red lips, revealed the glistening white fangs that hid beyond. Hanging on a rope, fangs three-times the size of her own rested against the skin of her chest, not quite reaching the top hem of her purple and red dress.
She stood from her seat when the shadow woman slipped from her horse's back, moving over to one of the other horses and pulling the small, crumpled body of a young boy. His hair was a shocking shade of red, short and cropped close to his head. He was probably close to six years old, still small enough for the woman to carry easily, but large enough to hold his own when he woke.
She placed him on the stone floors before the strange woman, and prodded his shoulder with a bare foot.
"Boy, wake up." She commanded. His eyes cracked open, revealing their amber hue. He was obviously of Gerudo descent. He looked around unsurely, already large eyes widening with fear and unknowing.
She leaned down, bending in half and giving him a falsely reassuring smile.
"Little boy, what is your name?" She asked, widening the fake smile when he looked at her with fear.
"No! Don't tell her anything!" A different voice screamed, the woman whipped around, smile vanishing in a flash. The young woman that had been slung over her own horse had woken up, and was staring over at the little boy, voice high and carrying the pitch of a mother's concern.
She turned back to the little boy, and smiled again.
"Don't listen to her. I'm your friend, you can tell me." She insisted, watching the subtle twitches that affected the little boy's expression. He was torn, and she could use that.
"What's your name, little boy? I won't hurt you."
"Please! Don't listen to her! Never tell a shadow your name! Remember the stories I read you!"
The little boy looked toward the younger woman that was still slung over the horse's haunches, and then to the woman that was leaning over him.
"If you tell me, you can play. All day long."
His expression twitched toward eagerness.
"M-my name's Malikai…"
K'ger: So, two important things to talk about:
#1. JAC.
I read your review, and no, I have not played Minish Cap, so I didn't know. Its just the disclaimer, just for fun, nothing serious. Thank you for your kind words of Princess of Demons and Perseverance. But, as to which stories I update, this is the only one I'm certain on. I am hopelessly blocked on Perseverance, and no one seemed interested in Princess of Demons, which drops it to low on the totem pole of things to update. Also, I'm sorry you found the ending of Silence is Golden...Dry? if you mean it wasn't action-y enough, I'm sorry, but I need my warm milk before bed.
#2. (this is a personal thing, no need to read unless you're bored.)
This afternoon, I was riding in the car with my mother, and a strange sounding song came onto the radio. We turned it up, and lets just say that my face wasn't pretty. It was absolutely disgusting! And so degrading of women! It said (things I remember, they might be incorrect, basics, basics):
"You should dance on a pole."
"You can twerk in a thong, cuz its your thing."
"I'm gonna call you my B****."
Ladies, if we don't have any respect for ourselves, no one will. We need to stop buying into disgusting, chauvinistic perverts like these. We can vote, we can get jobs, hell, we can do everything men can, and yet we date pigs like these? These men are supposed to be the fathers' of our next generation?