Post by L. Ebron Ruh on Jun 6, 2010 7:06:53 GMT -5
Just a beginning that can easily and quickly end where it shouldn't, I don't even know if i should bother calling this a prologue. I have a few ideas about this but I need to think about what world to set this in. I'm having second thoughts on putting it into some sort of parallel HP world... oh well, nothing to it for now.
The road sloped steeply, rising almost high enough to need stairs. A young figure scrabbled over the cobbled stones, slipping occasionally and receiving a scrape every time, his pants already ripped at the knees and his hands dirty and raw. Gasps puffed out into the stale early air when the road levelled out and he paused, coughing as he licked his dry lips, eyes flicking across the dark corners of the world before he quickly darted towards a dim alley, a simple crack in the wall that would not even fit a grown, well fed man. An almost hopeful look crinkled around his eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth when a gloomy shape slid across the escape, his exit, his freedom. Still running he crashed into the figure that was barely taller than him but fuller, harder, and bounced off. A hand grabbed him before he fell, thick fingers grasping forever around his thinning arm and he knew prying at it was futile, but the right twist, and quick enough, and maybe. Yes! Triumphant he turned around almost into another figure, this one a lot taller than him who started pulled out something from within some hidden pocket and whipping it out the young man ducked; a crack exploded somewhere above him followed by a pained, muffled yell. A twirl later, smiling, the bulked figures’ quarry slipped through the crack, fading into the darkness before they could get another hold on him, their hands grasping thin air, unable to follow into the narrow space.
Sulking, the two figures were slipping and sliding under the rising sun down the steep, grey road. Devour grumbled,
“This does not look good.”
“Not my fault,” Jullion whimpered, carefully rubbing his nose, still oozing with blood. They were silent. Aged houses creaked around them as they towered high above, engulfing the dirty sky and threatening to topple over. Devour clenched and unclenched his hands where their problem should have been, stuffed silent and bruised, probably wriggling in protest or knocked out, limp as a dead, stinking fish.
“They’re just gonna send us out back after ‘im you know,” Jullion said in a low, humming voice as he glanced at the looming figure beside him, who’s face wrinkled into a sneer, scoffing, his eyes staring beyond the bricked houses.
“He is fading and doubtlessly gone by now; they are acquainted with that predicament. We’ll just take it as it is and move on, they too will have to move on either way.”
“Nothing to do eh?”
“Nothing but to walk on, walk on into the next day.”
The road sloped steeply, rising almost high enough to need stairs. A young figure scrabbled over the cobbled stones, slipping occasionally and receiving a scrape every time, his pants already ripped at the knees and his hands dirty and raw. Gasps puffed out into the stale early air when the road levelled out and he paused, coughing as he licked his dry lips, eyes flicking across the dark corners of the world before he quickly darted towards a dim alley, a simple crack in the wall that would not even fit a grown, well fed man. An almost hopeful look crinkled around his eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth when a gloomy shape slid across the escape, his exit, his freedom. Still running he crashed into the figure that was barely taller than him but fuller, harder, and bounced off. A hand grabbed him before he fell, thick fingers grasping forever around his thinning arm and he knew prying at it was futile, but the right twist, and quick enough, and maybe. Yes! Triumphant he turned around almost into another figure, this one a lot taller than him who started pulled out something from within some hidden pocket and whipping it out the young man ducked; a crack exploded somewhere above him followed by a pained, muffled yell. A twirl later, smiling, the bulked figures’ quarry slipped through the crack, fading into the darkness before they could get another hold on him, their hands grasping thin air, unable to follow into the narrow space.
Sulking, the two figures were slipping and sliding under the rising sun down the steep, grey road. Devour grumbled,
“This does not look good.”
“Not my fault,” Jullion whimpered, carefully rubbing his nose, still oozing with blood. They were silent. Aged houses creaked around them as they towered high above, engulfing the dirty sky and threatening to topple over. Devour clenched and unclenched his hands where their problem should have been, stuffed silent and bruised, probably wriggling in protest or knocked out, limp as a dead, stinking fish.
“They’re just gonna send us out back after ‘im you know,” Jullion said in a low, humming voice as he glanced at the looming figure beside him, who’s face wrinkled into a sneer, scoffing, his eyes staring beyond the bricked houses.
“He is fading and doubtlessly gone by now; they are acquainted with that predicament. We’ll just take it as it is and move on, they too will have to move on either way.”
“Nothing to do eh?”
“Nothing but to walk on, walk on into the next day.”
