Part 1 found here.
He was lucky that the house was in East Street. This meant there was much less of a patrol. He also fit in much better here. While he was much better groomed than the average individual on this side of town, there were many that he had pleasured in his line of work. They understood that his appearance was directly linked to his profession, a profession that would cause most to classify him as scum. Some respected the profession, calling him a Harlot or an Escort. Others did not, calling him a whore or slut. Any of those titles could be grouped with the other titles found within East Street. Thieves. Con artists. Thugs. Whores. He made sure not to dress up too much, though. He didn't want to stand out while he did his investigation.
The house was stuffed back in the middle of a collection of other houses, half of which were either abandoned or occupied by any given person at any given hour. They were the oldest houses in the slum district, held together by makeshift repairs. It was a wonder that the houses hadn't been destroyed due to safety concerns. Did the government really concern itself with this district, though? Pushing the political thoughts from his mind, he refocused on his task. A few simple strolls around the house caused him to grow fairly intimate with the immediate surroundings. It was only a few dozen paces from the nearby waters of the Bay, though no one seemed interested in the massive expanse of water. Matthew supposed the ocean held no wonders for the people of Zeltiva.
While he waited for night to fall, he pondered. From what he could see of the house, it was in no condition for father and daughter to live in. While he was no father, he did have medical training and had spent a considerable amount of time with Dorian. It was unthinkable to raise someone so young within a place that looked so utterly filthy and unsafe. He supposed he would find out more information soon enough, though.
When darkness finally came, Matthew rose to his feet to take a stroll along the nearby shore. He tasted the air, let the salty spray of the ocean caress his face. He inhaled the scent of it, of fish and seaweed. In a sense, he let it become a part of him. It was so very interesting how he knew to do all this. It was somehow second nature to him, even though he had never ever done it before. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the way to do it, though. Soon, the Harlot removed his clothes, finding a semi-private area on the beach that was shielded by some of the nearby East Street homes. While not talented in stealth, the inky blackness of night and the wetness of the sand underfoot allowed him to move both silently and unseen. Once he was fully undressed, Matthew stepped into the ocean, slowly but surely travelling deeper.
Once he was submerged up to his broad shoulders, Matthew closed his eyes and focused. He cleared his thoughts of all things but the ocean that surrounded him. He captured the image of it in his mind and slowly began to modify it. He began to change his mental picture of the ocean to what he assumed it looked like in the past. There were not very many changes to be made. Still, he continued on. He didn't know how long this went on for. So lost in his meditation, Matthew only realized he had been successful when the mental image began to shiver and then blur.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing water swelled upwards, surrounding him in a single tick of an instant.
A little girl peeked from her bedroom window, clinging tightly to her worn-out teddy bear as she watched the dark orb of water suddenly rise from the ocean outside. Her eyes went wide with wonder at the sight, wishing the moon and stars were shining tonight so she could see just a bit better.
Suddenly, from within the orb, two bright blue eyes flared with light. The little girl muffled a screech with her teddy bear, turning and diving back into her rickety little bed.
She would miss how the orb of water suddenly collapsed to reveal nothingness inside.
Part 3 found here.
1st of Spring, 515 AV.
He was lucky that the house was in East Street. This meant there was much less of a patrol. He also fit in much better here. While he was much better groomed than the average individual on this side of town, there were many that he had pleasured in his line of work. They understood that his appearance was directly linked to his profession, a profession that would cause most to classify him as scum. Some respected the profession, calling him a Harlot or an Escort. Others did not, calling him a whore or slut. Any of those titles could be grouped with the other titles found within East Street. Thieves. Con artists. Thugs. Whores. He made sure not to dress up too much, though. He didn't want to stand out while he did his investigation.
The house was stuffed back in the middle of a collection of other houses, half of which were either abandoned or occupied by any given person at any given hour. They were the oldest houses in the slum district, held together by makeshift repairs. It was a wonder that the houses hadn't been destroyed due to safety concerns. Did the government really concern itself with this district, though? Pushing the political thoughts from his mind, he refocused on his task. A few simple strolls around the house caused him to grow fairly intimate with the immediate surroundings. It was only a few dozen paces from the nearby waters of the Bay, though no one seemed interested in the massive expanse of water. Matthew supposed the ocean held no wonders for the people of Zeltiva.
While he waited for night to fall, he pondered. From what he could see of the house, it was in no condition for father and daughter to live in. While he was no father, he did have medical training and had spent a considerable amount of time with Dorian. It was unthinkable to raise someone so young within a place that looked so utterly filthy and unsafe. He supposed he would find out more information soon enough, though.
When darkness finally came, Matthew rose to his feet to take a stroll along the nearby shore. He tasted the air, let the salty spray of the ocean caress his face. He inhaled the scent of it, of fish and seaweed. In a sense, he let it become a part of him. It was so very interesting how he knew to do all this. It was somehow second nature to him, even though he had never ever done it before. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was the way to do it, though. Soon, the Harlot removed his clothes, finding a semi-private area on the beach that was shielded by some of the nearby East Street homes. While not talented in stealth, the inky blackness of night and the wetness of the sand underfoot allowed him to move both silently and unseen. Once he was fully undressed, Matthew stepped into the ocean, slowly but surely travelling deeper.
Once he was submerged up to his broad shoulders, Matthew closed his eyes and focused. He cleared his thoughts of all things but the ocean that surrounded him. He captured the image of it in his mind and slowly began to modify it. He began to change his mental picture of the ocean to what he assumed it looked like in the past. There were not very many changes to be made. Still, he continued on. He didn't know how long this went on for. So lost in his meditation, Matthew only realized he had been successful when the mental image began to shiver and then blur.
Suddenly, the sound of rushing water swelled upwards, surrounding him in a single tick of an instant.
~
A little girl peeked from her bedroom window, clinging tightly to her worn-out teddy bear as she watched the dark orb of water suddenly rise from the ocean outside. Her eyes went wide with wonder at the sight, wishing the moon and stars were shining tonight so she could see just a bit better.
Suddenly, from within the orb, two bright blue eyes flared with light. The little girl muffled a screech with her teddy bear, turning and diving back into her rickety little bed.
She would miss how the orb of water suddenly collapsed to reveal nothingness inside.
