Date: 42nd if Winter, 513AV
Location: The Docks
Time: Later Afternoon/Early Evening
Location: The Docks
Time: Later Afternoon/Early Evening
The docks were nippy. Ravok was not a city to be cold but the water chilled the air comfortably. Ships lined the docks. They looked dazzling in the late light. The water looked abhorrent. It would always look so to the young woman before it. On the surface ripples waved. Beneath them were fish that she could not, in reality, see. A toe slipped out of its slipper to swirl at the water. It grasped at her unsuccessfully, climbing up her foot, it soaked the legs of Bonnies skirt, then it receded and joined its family. She jerked her foot back onto the dock. In the evening air it chilled straight away. It sent a ripple effect of horripilation across her legs. Then up her spin, down her shoulders, up her neck and across her cheeks.
Bonnie tightened her scarf. It did nothing to help the rest of her bare flesh. Clothed only white blouse and red skirt, she was sorely underdressed such ventures. Her skirt was further weighted down by the addition of her belt with her mace tucked neatly against her hip. It bared her stomach to the air. Her skirt dripped icy water on her toes. She stood straight for a chime. Only a chime. The pretense could last not longer and fled posthaste when she wrapped her arms around herself.
A noise to her right startled her but the young woman seen nothing. There was nothing to see but she did not know that. So she made a small circle to ensure no one still out paid her any mind. They wouldn’t, they had their own work as she obviously had her own business. Some sneeringly mistook her for a tourist. Bonnie gazed unknowingly into the water. “Oh papa…you were lucky to be drunk.”
Though no one would hear, and those that could would not care, Bonnie spoke, “Momma’s still sick. You were supposed to take care of everything, of all of us. Instead, you went on got drunk. You…if you weren’t already dead I’d drown you myself.” Her nails cut into her arms. They would leave angry, sore marks that she’d regret later.
“I can’t do it, papa. I can’t help her. She doesn’t even remember me! But she had the gall to—she called me a harlot! Again! What’s wrong with all of you? Well, fine. If you all get to be crazy, and selfish, then I do too.”
Bonnie made to throw herself off the dock. She hesitated. “I can’t even do it for myself, how the petch am I supposed to do it for you.” Bonnie coughed. The girl would not attempt to throw herself in again for quiet a few chimes; lost in her own reflection.
Bonnie tightened her scarf. It did nothing to help the rest of her bare flesh. Clothed only white blouse and red skirt, she was sorely underdressed such ventures. Her skirt was further weighted down by the addition of her belt with her mace tucked neatly against her hip. It bared her stomach to the air. Her skirt dripped icy water on her toes. She stood straight for a chime. Only a chime. The pretense could last not longer and fled posthaste when she wrapped her arms around herself.
A noise to her right startled her but the young woman seen nothing. There was nothing to see but she did not know that. So she made a small circle to ensure no one still out paid her any mind. They wouldn’t, they had their own work as she obviously had her own business. Some sneeringly mistook her for a tourist. Bonnie gazed unknowingly into the water. “Oh papa…you were lucky to be drunk.”
Though no one would hear, and those that could would not care, Bonnie spoke, “Momma’s still sick. You were supposed to take care of everything, of all of us. Instead, you went on got drunk. You…if you weren’t already dead I’d drown you myself.” Her nails cut into her arms. They would leave angry, sore marks that she’d regret later.
“I can’t do it, papa. I can’t help her. She doesn’t even remember me! But she had the gall to—she called me a harlot! Again! What’s wrong with all of you? Well, fine. If you all get to be crazy, and selfish, then I do too.”
Bonnie made to throw herself off the dock. She hesitated. “I can’t even do it for myself, how the petch am I supposed to do it for you.” Bonnie coughed. The girl would not attempt to throw herself in again for quiet a few chimes; lost in her own reflection.
