Chapter 2 ahead, where my original character is introduced. I found this chapter to be very entertaining to write, and I hope reading it will be equally as entertaining.
Chapter 2: A Necessary Nuisance
Gol's head was killing him. And so was his leg. And his lungs had filled with liquid again, but that was nothing new. He opened his eyes and immediately closed them. It was bright, wherever he was. He made to take a breath, but to no prevail. Curse it, why was it that he could no longer sleep on his back without suffocating? He pushed himself up to a sitting position with one hand and started hacking wildly into the other.
After that was through and he could take a few, if shuddering, breaths, he opened his eyes again. He was in a small room, white, stucco walls starting to yellow with age. He was lying in a bed in the corner, next to a small table with an old-fashioned oil-burning lamp (What, no Eco here?) set atop, with a sturdy, but worn wooden chair next to it. A dresser sat squatly against another wall, with various little trinkets placed on top, obviously with care.
It was a simple room, but the most gaudy thing met his gaze when he looked down. On top of the bed was a white quilt, with kittens of all things stitched across it. As he stared at it in disdain, one kitten clearly seemed to be mocking him. It was definitely staring right at him. With a snarl, he snatched the quilt up, bunched it up into a ball, and tossed it across the room. It hit the dresser with a muffled thump, making one of the tiny trinkets rock unsteadily before settling back down to its intended position.
Before he could step out of bed and make his escape, he was startled by a shrill voice.
"Rise and shine! I never thought you'd wake up! How you feelin'?"
He stared as someone, or something, walked into the room. It was short and dusty, wearing scratched armor and a mask that resembled some kind of creature with curving tusks and a yellow gem in its forehead. It grabbed the bottom of the mask with one hand and pulled it up over its head, shaking loose a tight, honey-colored ponytail. It was a woman, likely in her mid 20's, with a plain, but tanned, face and freckles strangely only on her left cheek. She smiled widely at him, but brought it back to a mere grin when he didn't return the look.
She took another step forward, taking off a glove and offering the now bare hand to him. "Forgive my appearance." She was rather sweaty, making shaking her hand that much less appealing. "Name's Kassra, but everyone calls me Kass."
He blinked at her, his frown deepening. Who was this fool, and did she not know who he was? She lowered her hand. "Usually it's customary to tell someone your name when they offer you theirs."
She didn't know, did she? Well, after what his sister and he had tried to do, it was probably for the best.
"My name is none of your concern."
She seemed slightly taken aback, either from his tone or his strange, echoing voice, but only for a moment. She glanced to the side. "Didn't like my quilt, did you? My gran made it for me. She's the nicest woman you'd ever want to meet."
"Are we through here?" He made as if to stand. He had things to do, and he hadn't the time to waste on such pointless chit chat.
She put a hand on his chest. "Uh-uh. You're not going anywhere."
He shoved her away. "Don't touch—"
"You have a broken leg."
This fact was confirmed as soon as he stood. A sharp pain shot up his left leg, and he yelped and fell back into a sitting position.
"Told you so. I set it, but it's not healed yet."
Well, no matter, he could just fly out of here. He didn't need his leg. But, after giving another look at the woman, fists now on her hips and face set in the kind of expression one gave to a naughty child who in no way would escape their ordeal without a spanking, he stayed where he was. If he suddenly took flight, she would likely pounce on him without a second thought. But, he didn't have to like it, and he hoped his displeasure was clear on his face.
"So get back in bed. I'm still not done taking care of you."
"No." Maybe he should just kill her.
"I can't let someone with an injury leave. You wouldn't last an hour in the Wasteland in your condition." She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.
"You'd be surprised."
"And you'd be surprised just how hard it'll be to leave before I say so."
Insolent girl! Why, he could break her scrawny neck… Wait a minute… "And how did you get me here in the first place, might I ask? Bully someone else into carrying me?"
"No." She flexed the biceps in one arm. "I'm strong. I dragged you. Not that you weigh much. You look like you haven't eaten a thing in a hundred years."
Imagine that. "No, nothing but little girls I don't like."
She snorted and chuckled in a very unbecoming fashion. But, it wasn't entirely meant as a joke. At this point, he was halfway considering turning to cannibalism, if only for today.
"Okay, back in bed, mister 'it's none of my concern'." She pointed to the bed. "Now let me take care of you. I promise, I'm gentle."
He sighed. She was persistent. And he was tired. He resigned himself to laying back down, propped up in a sitting position with the pillow (fortunately, devoid of any frolicking animals) and crossed his arms. "You can at least leave me in peace."
But, she had just walked out. That was easy. Too easy… He watched the doorway in suspicion. He heard her rattling away in another room, but perhaps he could slip by her, after all.
Just as he was seriously considering another escape attempt, she came back in, armor off, revealing brown pants and a dusty white shirt, with a bowl of water and a rag. He didn't know what she planned on doing with it, but he knew he wouldn't like it.
He growled at her. "Don't even."
"What?" She put her things down on the table and pulled the chair closer. She plopped down and dabbed the rag in the water, seemingly unaware of the look of pure malice he was directing at her as he started to edge away. What was she doing now? She held the dripping rag at arm's length towards him as he prematurely dodged. "Hold still."
"Absolutely not."
"Stop being a child."
"I'm not a child!"
"Then, prove it!" She got up and put her hand on the Sage's chest again, while he fought. She then put her full weight on him as he struggled like a feral animal held by a rope. Why did this world insist on torturing him! First the silo, then the cave-in, and now this! She finally succeeded in scrubbing his forehead, while he grimaced as a few drips of cold water ran down his face. This went on for an excruciating several seconds before she stopped and sat back down, wringing the rag out over the bowl.
"You hit your head. I still didn't get all the blood."
He wiped the water off his face with his sleeve using far more force than was strictly necessary. "So are you done pestering me now?"
"One more thing." She took her things and stood up, moving the chair back to its original spot with one hand.
"No, no more 'things'! Let me rest in peace!"
It wasn't clear if she heard him, as she had already left again. He then proceeded to watch the doorway with no small amount of intensity, breathing heavily, causing himself to wheeze rather noisily. She didn't come back as quickly this time, and the throbbing in his leg started to get to him. What a frail, old man I've become, he thought. And now I'm letting a child tell me what to do. Small wonder I despise children.
She returned. She had another bowl this time, but a spoon in place of a rag. He groaned.
"Go away! I'm not hungry!" He turned away from her as best he could with his leg aching as it was.
"Says the thinnest man in the world. You're thinner than me, and that's not fair. Men shouldn't get to be thinner than women."
He said nothing, and she came closer. Why couldn't she just leave him be? As little as he wanted to be here, he was tired, and this bed was far more comfortable than the floor inside the Precursor robot or the tunnels. Maybe if he managed to doze off soon, she'd go away.
"Just eat a little something, and I'll leave you alone. 'Kay?"
"I'm not—"
"I'm not buying it. Hold out your hands, or I spoon feed you." And she would, too, wouldn't she?
"Oh, fine already! But, this is it!" He wasn't bargaining with her. He was commanding her. He really was.
"I promise." She smiled at him and handed him the bowl. He wanted to slap her. He glared at her until she left the room, making it most clear she was absolutely not welcome here, then, turned his attention to the bowl. It smelled horrid. And it looked horrid. Worse than Maia's cooking. He knew it was. It was an unpleasant shade of yellow, with bits of green and orange visible.
As if in anticipation of his unspoken question, he heard, "It's vegetable soup!" cut through the silence. He looked around. She wasn't back already, was she? But, she was nowhere in sight. "Sorry," she continued, "that's all I have right now."
After further procrastination, he finally took a taste. It was overly salty and bitter, but he supposed it wasn't quite as horrendous as he would have guessed. But, that was only likely because he was indeed hungry. But, only a little. After drinking enough of the broth as to hopefully satisfy the woman, while leaving the vegetables well enough alone (he had always hated vegetables, almost as much as his dear sister did), he left the bowl on the table and pondered, hands on his stomach, fingers laced together. Where was his dear sister? Surely she should have been nearby, but the woman made no mention of her, and he had been too distracted by her treatment of him that he had neglected to ask.
Gol furrowed his brow in contemplation as he involuntarily imagined his sister lying under rubble somewhere, hopelessly mangled. Why hadn't the woman mentioned her? He would have to wait to find out, however. He wasn't bringing that woman back any earlier than he had to. He didn't have much time to worry over his sister's fate, though, before his eyelids grew heavy, and he fell back into sleep.
While Gol takes a much needed nap, please review. I hope you like my new character, even if Gol does not. But, I suspect he doesn't like anyone but his sis. What horrors will our poor Sage face next?