A new Beginning

[Maccenna]

A year had passed. A solemn year of self confinement, of confusion, and of loss had ebbed slowly by since the Amethyst War. A year had gnawed away the powerful kingdom in Danarta and demolished the strong standing Southerners. A year that ticked by so slowly and changed so much found Maccenna running away from what she knew, from who she was and from all that she had come to love. A year found her seeking shelter from the raging lands of Lilian on the Isle of Emeralds.

In the wide paved streets of the Diamond city, scampered a full grown three foot sea otter. His slick pelt dripped with salty droplets from the sea as the morning air, chilled from the dark night before, settled upon him and blew his drenching coat dry. The otter seemed to be alone on the streets for the sun had barely crested the sparkling buildings of the city, but as as he scampered further down, a young girl appeared. She took a few light steps from the shadows of an alley way and knelt to the stone floor with her thin, pale hands held out wide, ready to catch her young friend.The otter leaped play fully into her arms and nuzzled her as she squeezed him tightly. He was the girls only friend and she was his since the day that she got him.

"How was the water Pan?" the girl asked the otter as she stroked his dampened fur. "Nice and chilly?" The otter blinked at the girl as she heaved him up and walked over to the wall of a building before sitting down once more. "I imagine it is quite beautiful. I haven't seen it in months." The girl cast her eyes to the sky. She had changed so much since that fateful day a whole year ago when the southern king fell by the stroke of her love, Poker. Maccenna was no longer so young feeling and so hopeful. Even her stubborn attitude had seemed to subside into a forgotten past.

Once, Maccenna had been a strong minded, well rounded young pirate with a love for the sea and the ships she worked upon. Once, she had been stronger, well tanned and intune with the changing world of Lilian. Once she had a purpose in life, and someone to care about, but no longer. The year that passed found her thinner than ever, her muscles and her strength sapped away and her hunger lost. No longer was her skin tanned a brilliant copper from days of lingering in the sun. He skin had become pale as she lay huddled up in a shadowed corner in the Diamond City and her deep brown eyes seemed dull, their vivid light had vanished, spent in days of weeping and hiding away. Her thick blond hair that once spiraled in tight long ringlets now curved into loose, beach - like curls, cut alittle past the shoulders.

All the silver jewelry that Maccenna was once adorned with had been sold away, and all her assets had been bargained for food. Her old attire lay folded into a poorly sac, now replaced with a pale green dress and a shall. For a while, Maccenna lived well off the little food she earned and managed to make her self fit in by purchasing a low costing dress, bust as the months passed, Maccenna found herself in a state of poverty and unable to afford food and board. She and Panithar found their selves kicked to the streets, forced to live a broken life. Because of this, Maccenna seemed to be too thin, and while she kept her otter well fed with what she could manage to scrounge up, but many days, it would come to the point where neither of them retrieved food and Pan, out of hunger, would have to leave the city and fish in the nearby waters to feed.

Maccenna however, refused to follow him. She was afraid to see the world outside the walls that sheltered her. Once or twice the guards tried throwing her out because her begging and her uncleanliness was nearly too much to bare, but Maccenna was so afraid to leave that she had run away into underground sewers until the search was over just so that she would not have to look upon the world outside.

And yet, every night, Maccenna spent her time dreaming of the world- of the southerners, the northerners and of the pirates and Geddo. Most particularly, she would dream of Poker. At the time that she had met him, she seemed reluctant towards him- stubborn and perhaps a bit annoying and every night she thought of him, she wished she hadn't been. She wanted to open up her heart to him. At times she cursed herself for acting so waywardly after the battle for the Amethyst. If she had know, she would have sided with Poker immediately and forgiven him completely for what he had done. Sometimes Maccenna wished to go find him and to be with him again- give him whatever she could that he desired- but she was afraid to return and find he had forgotten her or did not wish to see her anymore- she was afraid to be stricken down. She was afraid he wouldn't love her anymore and she wouldn't blame him. She left him and disappeared. He hadn't done anything wrong.

"I am afraid to leave Pan. I think about him every day, but I cannot find myself able to move. What has happened to me?"

As the first shops began to open, Maccenna curled around Panithar with tearful eyes, shutting away her pain as she dreamed mournfully for the life she once had.

[anchor]

It was quite early in the morning, and Anchor wondered to himself why he was awake. Oh yes, because he got drunk the night before and with the last bit of sensibility still floating about in his mind, he decided to stay awake to avoid the hangover that would have come with the morning had he slept. And so, the only logical solution was to not sleep at all. All of his drunken state had fallen about two hours before, so Anchor decided to look for people to con. Sadly, there were very people out this early. Only some hobos who could offer nothing to him.

Anchor looked up, seeing the sunrising. The shops will open soon enough. And with the shops opening, people would be leaving their houses, which means Anchor could make some profit. Not that he needed it, really. He's become rich enough over the years. His money and jewels and other valuables being scattered about at different ports and forts, hidden in places that no one would dare to look. However, he hadn't been able to retrieve anything in some months, and therefor had little money left with. Luckily, Anchor could still buy quite a bit of beer.

He couldn't help but smile at that thought. Nearly every pirate likes a good drink, and the like it often. Anchor was no exception. He had enough riches to do it, too, without becoming poor. And, if he didn't have the money, he could just con the workers out of a free one. People were such simpletons these days, it was quite easy to do it. As Anchor was walking, he saw what appeared to be a beggar with her otter. He raised an eyebrow at her, for she appeared to be a pirate. Anchor could never stoop so low as to become a beggar. They were the lowest of the low, and could not take care of themselves.

Though, she seemed young. Too young. He estimated her age to be a few years younger than him, but due to her being so thin, she could have been younger still. Hearing footsteps behind him, Anchor looked over to see a man opening up his antique shop. Ah, good, it's about time people start to wake up. I was getting bored. Anchor was about to walk away, but couldn't help looking at the beggar again. Looking around once more, he decided to walk up to her.

"'Tis not good to be sleeping here. The lowest of men could easily take advantage of you, you know." The only reason Anchor cared to mention this, was for the fact that she was most likely a pirate, and he preferred there to be as many able pirates around as possible. The loss of one pirate could have its effects. Anchor didn't want to risk that. "Come on, get up. You're showing a weakness, lying there that is not your own. You can do do better than that."

[Maccenna]

In the hallows of her dreams, faint footsteps echoed, but Maccenna did not open her eyes or lift her head. The cool morning air bit at her skin as Panithar curled around her. The girl could have cared less about where she was and what she had become. Her old spirit had been broken and shattered. Though she still had a desire to live, she cared little about what happened to her, as long as she was not thrown out of the only walls that sheltered her from the changing world. She had little life left in her. The only one she ever gave the slightest notion of her old self to was Panithar and maybe it was because she knew he would always listen to her and comfort her regardless if he understood her or not.

Maccenna was used to being ignored and overlooked. So far she had never suffered a run in with a cruel person who might spit of jeer at her. Most people kept their distance out of pity and fewer yet knew that she was once a pirate, her attire and her sordid behavior, showing little to nothing of her past to the eyes of the everyday people that walked upon the streets.Thus, it was a great surprise to her when she heard a voice seep through her dreams- directed towards her and talking to her. She nearly jumped in fright, though her weakness would not allow her to.

Panithar struggled from her arms and landed with purposeful meaning before her feet. His fur bristled, but the sea dog did not growl or bark for his curiosity of the man who so dared to approach Maccenna was to overwhelming for the otter to bear.

When the words of the man finally registered in her mind, Maccenna shook her head but said nothing. She didn't understand why this man was helping her, nor did she understand that he realized who she once was. Maccenna kept herself seated and turned her face away from him. She knew very well what she risked when sitting upon the streets. Did he think that she had not noticed that? She had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. Her only option was to take that risk. If she had the power to, she would not have taken it, but her fears kept her caged in and unproductive. She figured life wasn't worth much to her anymore, anyways- that she'd probably die on the streets the way she was, one day. The only thing she had to cherish were memories and yet they pained her and she resented many of them.

She felt as if this man was trying to draw her back into the world, she had tried so hard to escape. He was someone from the outside coming in, trying to bring the disease of war and fights, death and loss to a city that chose not to fight Lilan's wars- that chose not to be a part of the maddened realm.

"You're from out there. You're not from here." her voice trembled. "Why are you talking to me?"

She grabbed Panithar and pulled him close to her. "I don't need your help."

[--Thrift--]

Thrift shut her eyes tightly against the gleam of the sunlight between the buildings. The glow was almost white with the heat, and the light was reflected wildly on the Diamond City, sending individual rays bouncing off nearly every reflective surface available. Thrift ducked around a shop building and into its comforting shadows, which lessened the sun’s glare, turning it into a tiny sliver on the edge of the shop roof. Thrift was considering heading to the Emerald Mine for a chance to look at some of the stones, but first she had to stop at the city for a while to buy provisions, get food, and perhaps get a temporary job. She had come by pirate ship from Teer, or rather had stowed herself away into one of the crates, and then had dispatched herself in one of the rowboats as they passed the island. Thrift rarely stayed with a pirate crew for more than a few days, a month at the very most. Her attention span was short and she enjoyed variety, instead of plundering with the same crew over and over again. Thrift carried a natural scepticism of her own type, and had found very few who had been trustworthy. But some of those select few had been killed in the Amethyst War, which Thrift hadn’t been able to take part in. One of them, she knew, had been her own older sister. Thrift had barely known her- she’d only met her on a few occasions, and never for very long- but it still bit her that yet another family member of hers was now lying cold and maimed in a grave somewhere. Thrift herself had been under capture during nearly the whole period of the War by the hated and unrelenting navy, but besides the loss of her sister and a few other companions, the struggle hadn’t affected her in the least. The southern King had been destroyed, but she knew that her mother and the rest of the jungle tribe had never responded to the king anyway, so they were most likely safe and undisturbed.
Besides, a new war was approaching, and it could be even bigger than the Amethyst. The last war seemed to only have given the leaders an extra encouraging push, and she could feel the tense air all around her. Thrift didn’t mind company, but not when it was so stressed. She chewed her lip and pulled down an alley, one that wasn’t used very often, by the look of the lack of activity. The tall houses were still as elegant as the richer ones but far more narrow, and Thrift guessed that two men could have barely walked abreast in such a small space. She shouldered past the buildings and looked up. This made her nervous. The sky was only a pale, pinkish stripe of light in the alley, and she felt trapped and small. The only thing she hated more than being stuck in small spaces was heights. Thrift decided to turn out of the alley, heading left, glad of breathing space again. The path she took was busier, but at least wasn’t cramped.
For once, Thrift wasn’t walking on an empty stomach. She had managed to make herself look as neat as possible, with her red hair slicked back into a ponytail and having managed to take a bath the night before, although she was wearing simple leather clothing. At least it was washed. She wore thick breeches with strapped kneepads, and a leather jacket that barely covered her midriff. Thrift had her hands shoved into the pockets so she could pull it down as much as possible to cover her body, not only out of caution for being fined by the guards for showing bare skin but also because she was uncomfortable with walking around with her midriff showing. The only skin that did show was her face and neck, and even her hands had simple brown gloves slipped onto them. Thrift’s kept appearance had managed to allow her to buy some bread and cheese with stolen coins without arousing too much suspicion, and she still carried leftovers in her bag from the night before, wrapped in cloth to stay fresh.
The rising sun created a wet, soft mist in the air, and the buildings a hundred metres away looked hazy and distant to Thrift. She blinked at the sunlight that now seemed stronger than before, and turned into one of the poorer sections of the city. People were rising now, and vendors were setting up their wares on the corners, but Thrift continued to walk, not much caring where she was going, deep in thought. But as she was about to turn a corner of a house smelling hideously of piss and other certain grievous smells she couldn’t immediately recognize, Thrift came to a halt and leaned against the wall, listening. She’d heard a voice. A girl’s voice; and she didn’t sound very old by the pitch of it. Thrift took a peep around the corner of the smelly house, glancing out of the corner of her eye. She could see a girl, dirty and ragged, wearing a pale dress and curled around a strange animal that Thrift had never seen up close before. She seemed to be talking to it. Thrift looked closer. Despite being skinny and grimy, behind the mask of filth she could see that the girl was beautiful. She was also young, probably as young as Poker, whom she’d met back in Teer a week or so ago. She was also incredibly small. Thrift stared. She was smaller than she was! The only possible person even shorter was Sthenno, who could barely reach four and a half feet. And Sthenno herself wasn’t human. Thrift ducked her head back around the house again, covering her nose in disgust. She’d just recognized the smell as dye, and realized it smelled so bad because she was leaning against a tannery. She got up again, about to move off, when another voice cut her off from moving. It was a man’s. Thrift poked her head around the tannery again, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. She knew what men often attempted to do to vulnerable and alone young girls.
This one didn’t seem to making any attempts, though, and was simply speaking to her. In fact, he was warning her about what Thrift had been frightened about. Thrift stared at him. He was a pirate, judging by the scars along his face and his clothing, and his eyes were an unnatural yellow colour, like Sthenno’s or Helaku’s or Msrah’s eyes. They were a strange sort of golden, and Thrift doubted that the pirate was human. Suddenly feeling nervous, Thrift turned away from the scene, about to head back the way she’d came, and was surprised to find herself face to face with a wandering goat. It bleated, also surprised, practically into her ear. Thrift fell backwards, hitting her side and jarring her arm on the tannery wall. It made a distinct thump, and several stones rolled off the roof. Thrift was unpleasantly reminded about the weight jokes often placed on her, and her annoyance grew when one of the larger rocks hit the top of her head. She stumbled again, bumping into the young goat, which bleated again, more loudly this time, and sent it bolting past the young girl and the man with the yellow eyes. Thrift sank to her knees, leaning against the wall to catch her breath and holding her throbbing head. She wasn’t aware of where the goat had gone, and was too dazed to stand up immediately.

[Maccenna]

Maccenna's eyes which she had averted from the stranger and burriend into herself remained tightly seeled away from him. Her trembling fingers grasped Panithar's slick rough fur, as if begging his protection from this hideous outsider who so dared to tell her to rise, who so dared think of her as what she was not; who so dared think her better than that of which she had become. She wanted nothing more to do with him. She was ashamed of what she had become, that was true, but she was too afraid to admit it. To just rise and shrug off all her sorrows and shed her skin of frightened in ability, of dispair and of fear was too much of a burden to hamper with. Her bare feet curled under the hem of her dress which sagged soggly on the ground as she waited stubbornly for the man to leave, but ten seconds had passed, ticking by as if ten minutes had washed through Maccenna's mind and he hadn't left. Things she didn't want seemed to take an eternity to leave, however short they remained around her.

A thud, clanging and the bleating of a surprised goat suddenly errupted in those ten seconds of silence, and Maccenna started in surprise, the loud noise coming to her ears like thunder crashing upon a crumbling mountain. She let go of Panithar and lifted her head in the direction of the clatter, her eyes wide with bewilderment as she saw a frightend goat stumble from around the corner and dash down the street. Finding an excuse to get away from the man in front of her, Maccenna lifted herself and sprinted toward the broken noise. As weak as she was and as tired as she was, Maccenna was still nimble. She had to be if she would ever have a chance of surving in such a prosperous town. Her left hand brushed the corner of the builing as she rounded it to help her keep her balance, but it was all in vain however, For Maccenna immeadiately stumbled before catching her self halfway through the fall, nearly toppling over a half fallen tannery.

There was no doubt that Maccenna didn't expect anything short of what lay before her, she knew what would be around the corner, but she did not expect herself to want to actually visualize what had happened. She had hoped just to blow past the catastrophe and around the corner to somewhere quiet, thinking that whoever was clumsy enough to completely destroy someone's property was smart enough to run away before the owner came back with a lashing tougue and brute fists demanding pay. However, she was dead wrong as she looked upon the face of a dazed lady, about her hight sprawled upon the ground. From the otherside of the street she saw a man peek his head from around a door and huridly slam it shut behind him as he rushed over to them.

Maccenna wanted nothing more to do but run, but she knew the man who was now hurdling towards them. He was no man of pity and would ask for nothing less than double the gold worth the damage of his tannary and a slick punishment to follow for the destruction of his prophets. "Get up! Are you that dim? I f that man catches you, you'll be in a world of pain!"

Maccenna knew almost all the inhabitants in the city. She had nothing better to do in her days of sulking and spent many of them studying others. While she had never experienced the wrath of this man's anger, he saw it played out upon a poor boy who had mistakenly payed him two shillings short of the prisce he had originally demanded for a sorry peice of leather. The man beat the poor boy and then had the officials force more than double the money his mother could affored for such a scrap of leather.

"Stupid, heartless brute." She murmered to herself. Maccenna was in a sour mood as it was. Her hands shook uncontrolably in impatience and fear as Panithar began to scurry down an alley way. As the tip of his tail vanished, Maccenna edged away and in a fleeting second dashed with him, throwing her shawl over her dull hair as her naked feet hit the cold earth. Hopefully the fallen woman would be quick enough and have sense enough to follow.

||EeeK!! Aweful.. whatever... sorry for the lateness.. I didn't have access to the computer!!||