Flashback The Argent Children

When children have nothing, fear is secondary. Love is third.

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

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The Argent Children

Postby Einmana on July 10th, 2015, 5:22 pm

Day 12 of Summer, 513 AV


It was an oddly cold morning for the beginning of summer. Then again, it was a few chimes before the 3rd bell of the day, and windy, so it wasn't that surprising. Ravok was rather quiet at the moment and the only ones out were the drunks heading back home and a tiny huddled mass in a dark corner of an alleyway. The mass held umbra as a blanket and shivered in the early morning hours. Life seemed to wheeze slowly through the shape and the drunks just stumbled past the shadowed form without noticing it. Kindness is hard to come by in alleys and dark mornings, and those who wander at night are rarely the Good-Samaritan type. There was a loud noise, the shattering of glass. A bar fight broke out, it seemed, a few doors down from quaking child. For it was a child, hidden beneath a ratty old blanket and a thicker layer of dirt caked on his skin. His head peeked out of his thin security and glanced around listening to the sound of drunken revelry and stumbling steps, leading away from him, thankfully. Life in the tiny alleyways of Ravok was hard. There were hardly any places to sleep and food was scarce. The hardest part, however, had to be trying to avoid the Black Sun. They were everywhere and it seemed near impossible.

The child shivered as a new breeze swept through the alley and he pulled his blanket tighter around him. It had been two weeks since he had entered the city and fled the presence of the merchants who had a grudgingly taken care of him after the storm destroyed his family's wagon. They were hardly pleasant and one had even spoken of selling him to slavery when they thought he was asleep. No, the boy would take his chances living on the street. Even though he might be regretting his decision now. If he was a slave, he would have some food in his stomach, at the very least. What he wouldn't give for a piece of bread... Suddenly, the sounds from the pub grew louder and heavy footsteps shook the ground. Clear blue, but bloodshot, eyes peeked out over the tattered edges of his only possession, one he found tossed away in some trash pile, and watched as a hulking, dark silhouette made its way towards him. The boy shimmied back farther into the shadow, hoping the great mountain of a man didn't see him, but luck was not on his side.

"'Ere now, lil one, come out an' play," He laughed drunkenly and moved forward, even closer and made a grabbing motion with his hands. The monster's breath stunk of cheap mead and Kline Pipe-weed, sour and nauseating. The boy shook his head and tried to crawl even farther away, but he was backed into the corner he had chosen for his bed and had no means of escape. "Come on, lil mouse, I won't hurt you... much"

The boy cried out weakly; he didn't have the strength to do much more. He hadn't eaten a good meal in over two weeks and what he did have was things that wouldn't be given to a dog. Suddenly, the breeze picked up. Trash flew around the alley and the man seemed to shiver, but it did not deter him. To the boy however, the breeze felt like a mother's caress. And then, there was someone else in the tiny corridor. She was tall and beautiful and a pale, flickering alabaster. The ghost placed herself between the child and his aggressor, eyes blazing with fury. The drunkard froze as soon as he saw the angry spirit between him and his prize.

"Leave here." The two words were spoken calmly, but with such power that seemed to vibrate the very air surrounding them. The man quaked with fear, an angry ghost was not something that you expected to see everyday, and a vengeful one was terrifying. He tried to take a step back, but his feet were almost rooted to the ground and his legs wouldn't listen to him. The ghost's eyes narrowed slightly and, with a small growl, she concentrated and pushed. It didn't do much, the action was weak and the man before her was hulking. Still, feeling a push from something that you could walk through was unnerving and the touch gave the man control over his legs again. He turned tail and ran, white as a sheet, leaving a small, stinking puddle behind, where he stood.

Einmana smiled tiredly and turned back to the boy cowering behind her. Her eyes softened and crouched down to his level. "Are you alright?" Her words were soft, and movements slow. The small use of Soulmist Projection took a lot out of her, but she needed to get this boy somewhere safe.

The small, lanky boy nodded shakily. The personality shift was quite sudden in the ghost before him, and he was slightly frightened by the woman. Ghosts were not common in Ravok, and nearly everyone was terrified of them. There were stories of children being stolen of the streets and eaten by ghost, stories that mothers tell their children to keep them from running wild. But this one saved him. She didn't seem like she wanted to hurt him, either.

"What is your name?"

"...Xzavier."
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Einmana
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