Flashback [Flashback] Fire and Tears

[Nellie Hawkins]

.78th of Fall, 513av.

The desolation flowed off of her; Nellie paid no notice. She walked the streets in a fog, neither keeping to the shadows nor avoiding passersby. That evening she had been Sunberth's easiest mark, though a perverse twist of fate saw her unmolested. In truth, Nellie might have welcomed a quick death, or an easy escape into slavery. Her world had already been shattered.

Footsteps slowed as she neared her home. The child in her imagined that, secure within its walls, she would find her parents. Grief-stricken and heartsick with worry that their only child had not come home the night before. But alive. They would be angry. They would yell. Ma would cry and Dad would bluster and in the end, they would hug her, warning her that Sunberth was no place for a young woman wandering alone.

She would apologize, and mean it, promising not to worry them like that again, and they would fall back into a routine. Ma would putter away creating this thing or that drawing. Dad would make his way carefully, always carefully, to his lab.

Except that it was a lie.

Nellie flinched from that fact, even as her brain conjured up vivid images of the truth.

The lab had caught fire, or exploded, or hai - maybe it had been bombed. Nellie couldn't be sure. She only knew that, by the time she got there, the lab had all but disappeared; flames licked up the sides of the building, as a crowd gathered to watch. To wonder. To judge. To take advantage of the tragedy in whatever way was easiest for them.

In that moment, she had hated them.

Not one among them had grabbed a bucket, gone for water, tried to rescue whoever might have been inside.

But this was Sunberth, and why should they? The building stood apart from other structures, there was little danger the fire would spread. Besides - tragedy happened daily. To those who watched, hers was no more special than the rest.

In fact, she had joined them, watching in mute horror and disbelief, and now her eyes could not unsee the lurid colors of the fire. It, too, had seemed purposeful, if fire could have a purpose. Crackling and climbing, searching out every shred of fuel. Several small explosions happened in rapid succession. Each one made her flinch, drawing odd stares from those nearby.

During one such episode, she felt her miza pouch yanked from her belt, the leather thongs breaking and pulling her off-balance. She spared her assailant no notice; dark eyes remained locked on the fiery ruin that was her father's lab. Her parents, she knew, had been inside.

[Nellie Hawkins]

In the end, Nellie had stood there, transfixed, almost hypnotized by the leaping, grabbing flames until there was nothing left to see. When finally the building was wasted, seared away to charred stone and smoking ash, the crowd began to disperse. Feeling hollow, she had allowed herself be swept away by the tide of people searching for someone else's misfortune to admire.

Though her mind was railing against the harsh reality, Nellie remained dry-eyed as she walked. Her path was random, unknown even to her; her feet moved independent of her will. She passed taverns. Houses. Shacks that, had she been aware, she would have never strayed near. To the casual observer, the image of the smoke-stained waif would have drawn little interest, except as a fitting target for Sunberth's baser desires.

Until they saw her eyes. Desperation and grief are palpable things and, though Nellie noticed it not, more than one would-be assailant flinched away from the nearly-tangible despair in her eyes. Or maybe they simply acknowledged that, in that moment, any attack would have been a release, a reason to unleash the anger and the sorrow and the blame that were raging within her.

Whatever the truth of it, the gangs and cons and ruffians who held sway over the streets at night chose to let her go her way. Later, Nellie would regret the restraint they showed. Tonight she was so far sunken into her own emotions that their very lack of initiative went unremarked. She simply walked until she found herself once more on familiar paths.

Once more in front of her father's lab.

The still-smoking shell spoke to her, beckoning her near and Nellie hesitated only a moment before approaching, facing her new reality. It was late in the season, and more than one ragged beggar had come to warm themselves by the remains of Nellie's life. Jeers and lewd suggestions met the girl where she stood, as close as was possible without touching ash.

Slowly, not comprehending, she turned her face toward the speakers. It was the gaze of an animal, cornered and confused and eager to find a scapegoat. The insulting offers and ugly names died away slowly, though no one left the unfortunate warmth of smouldering coals. They disappeared from Nellie's world the moment she turned her eyes back to the ruin of her father's lab.

[Nellie Hawkins]

She stood there for what seemed like only a moment, but when she was finally able to tear her mind from the tragedy, Syna's light was sinking on the horizon. Dully, Nellie looked around her; one or two scavenging wretches picked at the outskirts of the lab, attempting to salvage what they could of her father's livelihood; Nellie couldn't find it within herself to care.

Bone-weary and miserable, but finally more coherent, Nellie picked her way through the familiar streets. She dodged the same places that she usually dodged, lifted a hand in greeting out of habit when she passed a friendly face, and soon found herself standing in front of her home.

The weight of incredible sadness pushed at her as she approached the door, blanketing her senses so that it was not until she reached out to pull it open that she realized someone had beaten her to it. The door stood ajar, and the house was not empty. Nor did its inhabitants seem to care who noticed the fact, as Nellie could hear crashing and laughter and rough, deep voices emanating from within.

For a moment, disbelief and outrage warred within her, and her instinct was to rush into the room and tell those petching men to leave. This was her parents' house. Those were her family's things. These men were unwelcome and unwanted.

And probably armed. And they outnumbered her. And this was Sunberth, where tragedy happened daily and no one cared two copper mizas to help out an orphan if she were stupid enough to try to confront at least two men ransacking her home.

Her hand hovered over the door handle before clenching into a helpless fist and retreating. Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she recognized the futility of her situation. There would be no welcoming return to her home, no discovering that her parents had somehow escaped the blaze and returned to await her here. Their deaths had led, inevitably, to her own. Or at least the death of everything she knew.

The usurpers caroused inside, but breakage and chaos seemed to be lessening, and Nellie thought she heard footsteps approaching the threshold. Darting around the corner hurriedly, she made her way to the back of the house, where the only bedroom had been. Her few belongings had been stored in there, along with her parent's personal possessions, and she hoped, irrationally, that she would be able to sneak in and retrieve something. Anything.

[Nellie Hawkins]

The back of the house seemed deserted. No cursing, laughing, obscenities greeted her ears, at least. Peering into the one window, between boards meant to keep out just such degenerates, Nellie could see that the room had already been thoroughly searched. Or ransacked, rather. Bedding was unrolled and heaped inelegantly on the floor. Shards of pottery led a trail into the adjoining room. Her mother's one special dress, the green one with the lacework and beading, the one she'd once let Nellie try on, just for fun... It had been torn from its hanging post, ripped and ruined; muddy footprints crisscrossed the full skirt. Beads had been carelessly torn from the bodice and now lay strewn cross the dirt-covered wooden boards of the floor.

The tears that had threatened finally overcame her. To see her mother's most prized possession stolen and paraded around on a town whore would have been preferable. But its destruction at the hands of common thugs was too much for her fragile self-control to bear.

"I hope you break your petchin' necks on them!" The vehement words were barely audible, broken by a desperately quiet sob, but the malice behind them seemed to color the early evening dusk.

Nellie slid to the ground, back pressed against the wall; it was flimsy construction, and she felt it move slightly at her added weight. How safe she had once felt here. It was home, inviolate, protective, and now - overrun and out of reach. There would be no secret entrance and clever retrieval of anything. Even at the best of times, she knew she lacked the skills and the courage to pull it off.

With no other options, and no where else to go, Nellie crouched there and gave in to the misery that had been heaped on her. She cried for her parents, taken from her by accident or intent - it didn't matter. She cried for her home, though it yet stood; she would never return. Most piteously, she cried for herself, for the uncertainty of her future.

Her shoulders shook with the strength of her grief, and, though she tried to muffle all sounds, soon even her sobs became loud and wracking things in the night. Loss and fear welling up from the depths of her soul, Nellie gave no thought for safety, no thought to the greedy eagerness of the men who'd wasted no time in commandeering her home, and would not have, had one of them not stepped out to piss in the alley where she cowered.

"Ey, what's here, then?" Making quick work of righting his clothes, the man advanced on her. He was scruffy, shadowed, and smelled as though he'd never seen water. At a distance, the sight of him would have been enough to send Nellie scampering off into the darkness; he was close enough that she could clearly see the intent in his eyes.

"Its alright, puss, I'm a friend," the man cajoled, just a hint of darkness creeping into his voice. He held his hands out in an age-old gesture of innocence that also happened to be an age-old tactic to snatch unsuspecting victims. "C'mon, be friendly, now. Gots some other frien's inside that would love to meetcha."

But Nellie had been raised in Sunberth, and even in her misery was not prepared to become his newest 'friend'. She sprang up, tense and wild-eyed, searching for escape.

[Nellie Hawkins]

Nellie shook her head emphatically back and forth; she was so not eager to go in and 'be friendly' with the gang of trouble that had taken forceful possession of her home. But the easiest and most direct route away was blocked by a menacing threat that would surely grab her if she tried to squeeze past.

In fact, he was advancing on her even as she wasted time thinking, and Nellie backed away instinctively. She knew the area, knew where it was safe to cut through and where it would be stupid to try; but, though she was retreating, the thug was closing the distance with inevitable persistance. From the wicked grin stretched across his face, Nellie knew that he was prolonging the attack out of sheer malicious enjoyment; the fear on her face was half of his fun.

They were both silent now save for her scrambling footsteps and his, following methodically as he allowed her to trap herself. And she did, without realizing it until her she found herself backed against the corner where her home butted up against a newly erected shack.

Nellie froze, eyes wide, and stared in rising panic at the face of her tormentor.

"Ere, now, see? You done run out of room, ain't ya? 'At's a shame, that is, friend. Lucky thing for you, ya gots me here to keep ya comp'ny," with that comforting statement, he closed the final distance, slamming a hand on either side of her body. Unable to tear her gaze from the scarred and bearded visage of the thug, Nellie stood, whimpering, for a precious few ticks as he drew his face infinitesimally closer to hers.

Because she had no choice, she saw the thick lips of his mouth open, exposing teeth rotten with neglect, bits of food stuck in a wiry black beard, more than a few blotchy red spots in a face that would likely haunt her forever - if she managed to escape with her life.

Half a tick before his lips touched hers, Nellie broke from her fear-induced paralysis, wrenching her face to the side. The resulting hard and wet impact of lips to cheek made her gag; with a sob, she began to struggle in earnest against the unyielding prison of his arms.

Her reward was a slap that snapped her head back; a double impact of bony hand and shaky wooden wall that threatened to knock her unconscious. A voice gone hoarse with excitement rasped in her ear.

"'At's not very friendly, friend. 'Ere I am, being just as sweet as pie, and you there being," here he paused, tongue flicking out to run itself over her cheek, tasting the tracks of her tears, "all salty." He cackled at his own cleverness, nuzzling her neck in a strangely tender gesture that confused her as much as it frightened her. Suddenly, teeth clamped down over the tender skin of her neck, hard; she imagined he'd broken skin, but couldn't be sure if the wetness she felt was her blood or his eager spit or both. In the end, it didn't matter; the result was that she was pinned in yet another way.

She felt a hand grasping at the front of her shirt, pulling and tearing the already ragged cloth. He was done with formalities, it seemed, and had had enough of prolonging her pain. Something in her revolted at the idea, the reality that she was to suffer so much and be rewarded only with more suffering.

With an anguished cry, she wrenched her neck from the biting hold of teeth, imagining she could hear her skin tearing away in his mouth. Blood welled up and flowed freely down her shoulder, staining her skin and what remained of her shirt; she would notice it later and worry about infection. For now, the only thought repeating itself in her brain was to run, run, RUN.

On instinct, she lifted her knee in the oldest of feminine defenses, feeling a grim satisfaction at the meaty impact and the would-be rapist's sudden howl of pain. Though he didn't collapse, he released her to cover himself in a needless protection from further assault. Nellie had no interest in a second attack. The moment the thug's arms fell away, she was off, sprinting down the alley and past the only home she'd known these past 15 years.

Not sparing a backward glance, Nellie pumped her arms, legs flying over hard-packed dirt roads, and then onto more substantial stone and rock. She ran for what felt like bells, with a clear destination in mind. Panic pushed her faster than she'd thought possible, and she nearly collapsed in relief when the Orphanage came into sight.

[Avarice]

Succumb to Your Desires . Nellie : Skills: Observation +4 Unarmed Combat +1 Running +1 Consequences: Neck Wound: Nellie will carry a nasty scar upon her neck; a permanent reminder of the sordid nature of Sunberth on the day of her parents' demise. Lores: For a moment, Sunberth Showed Mercy On Me. The Mob: Always Sees Advantage in Tragedy My Parents Died in a Lab Explosion Fire: The Beautiful Agent of My World's Destruction The Numbness of Grief The Most Disgusting Kiss of My Life Hitting a Man Where It Hurts Comments : This thread punched me right in the feels. Beautifully done! If you have any questions or concerns regarding this grade, please do not hesitate to shoot me a PM! Furthermore, please edit your post in the request thread to reflect your having received a grade! Thank you!