|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 0:52:55 GMT -4
Post by Isabella "Issie" Alice Weberg on Feb 28, 2009 0:52:55 GMT -4
Issie stood in the streets of ombra once again singing a song, hoping for money.
“You may have seen some wonders But we’ll bet our Sunday hat You haven’t seen as big a one As Johnny Dolan’s cat.”
This particular song was funny, not her usual style. She liked sad songs, songs that made people cry. But no today was happy, and hey at least no one was starring at her birth mark, or pale skin, and her hair was slightly less frizzy, and as soon as she was done with this she could go back to the woods. Back to her friends the nymphs, and fairies, and glass men. Away from human eyes.
“And he’s still alive and prowling Still alive and howling, Still alive and growling Is Johnny Dolan’s cat!” The last line ended there was scattered applause and people dropped money into her bowl. Issie smiled satisfactorily. How easy these people were, how easy to manipulate into giving her money. Then again maybe it made them feel like they were doing something good, it helped them fool themselves.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 1:01:00 GMT -4
Post by Dustfinger on Feb 28, 2009 1:01:00 GMT -4
Dustfinger was in the market once more. He'd come with the Black Prince, but had slipped away to watch the Motley Folk for a bit. Every once in a while, he looked up and noticed the lumbering black bear that was the Prince's constant companion, much the way fire was Dustfinger's. The only problem with this was the constant sparks, drawing attention to him. Attention he didn't want, of course.
Sighing, Dustfinger moved away. Too many people were staring at him. Unfortunately, the same thing happened wherever he went. People felt the heat of him if he got too close, and so turned to look, and he couldn't avoid them, for the bodies were too tightly packed. Dust did the best he could, however, and eventually managed to press himself against a wall. A girl had just finished singing, and the crowd was starting to back off a bit, so Dustfinger stood with his back to the wall for a moment, looking around him. The Black Prince was on the other side of the market, and there was no way Dustfinger was going back across so soon. He sighed. It was going to be a long day if he wanted to leave with the Prince.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 1:12:41 GMT -4
Post by Isabella "Issie" Alice Weberg on Feb 28, 2009 1:12:41 GMT -4
Issie bent down and checked her money, “Jerks.” She muttered. There was hardly any money in the bowl. Issie made a rude gesture to the backs of the departing crowd. “I hope the black prince’s bear eats you!” she muttered under her breath along with several other threats. How was she supposed to live? “It’s not like money falls out of the sky. And I need to buy food.” She kept muttering angrily. She threw the coins in her pocket and ran a hand threw her hair, causing it to stand wildly on end. A little kid stared at her, so she glared right back “What!” she said. The kid gave a frightened squeak and ran off. “Stupid kid.” She muttered.
She hated kids, she hated people in general. She hated every thing about them. “Greedy insensitive, fowl smelling ugly stupid Jerks!” she murmured. “idiotic excuse for intelligent life, pigs!” she said, then fallowed it up by a amount of swearing that would cause a sailor to look outraged, Especially coming from such a young mouth.
She bit her lip looking around at her fellow strolling players. Finally she sat down, almost in a defeated way. She hated the world so much right now. She whipped a bit of dirt off her face. She wondered to herself what it would have been like if her parents had never died.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 1:20:57 GMT -4
Post by Dustfinger on Feb 28, 2009 1:20:57 GMT -4
The girl had bright red hair much like his own, or Brianna's. He hadn't heard her voice, however, and knew not how it sounded, only that she sung, again like Brianna and this time also like Roxane. Then she started making rude gestures and muttering insults, scaring off a little boy. What was wrong with her? Dustfinger had but a guess- presumably, she hadn't gotten much money, and obviously wasn't happy about it.
Feeling around in his pockets, he found a few extra coins and skillfully tossed one so that it rolled across the uneven stones towards the girl. It circled, then hit her foot and fell onto the flat side. He tossed another in the same way, then folded his arms across his chest, still leaning against the wall. He could get more than enough money if he wished, even if it was hard to come by- his shows were usually very profitable, even in these hard times.
Not as hard as ten years ago, with no men in Ombra. Those were bad, bad times. You were hardly alive for them, and when you were you were at the Castle in the Lake for quite some time, Dustfinger reminded himself. You were hardly in Ombra at all those days.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 14:08:05 GMT -4
Post by Isabella "Issie" Alice Weberg on Feb 28, 2009 14:08:05 GMT -4
Issie felt something hit her foot; she looked down in time to see another coin do the same. She picked up the two coins, and then looked up to see a man with red hair like hers. Only his laid flat. It took her a second to figure out who this man must be. “You’re, you’re dust finger.” She stammered out. Dustfinger was one of the few people she admired; the stories about him were legendary. His power over fire caused awe for every one. He had been part of the strolling players.
Immediately Issie was aware of how she must look. There was dirt on her face, her hair was frizzed up, and the only good thing is that thanks to her sleeves she was covering her birth mark. Still she must be a sight. No wonder the kid had run. She must look like a monster or something. Issie ran her hand threw her hair again this time hoping it would make her hair go flat, it didn’t work and only made the frizz worse. She suddenly wished she had pulled it back. At least then she wouldn’t look quite as monstrous, she also wished she washed that morning, but how was she to know she would meat one of the few people who she looked up to. It was hard not to look up to him when you thought about all the stories about him.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 14:28:05 GMT -4
Post by Dustfinger on Feb 28, 2009 14:28:05 GMT -4
Dustfinger smiled his mysterious smile. The girl's hand jumped to her hair, but she only managed to make it stick up more. Dustfinger tossed her his leather bottle of water, which was hanging at his waist, and walked closer. "I'm perfectly aware of who I am, at the moment." He remembered he time he'd almost forgotten himself, the time he had escaped his body to escape from the Night-Mare, and hadn't remembered who he was until Resa had shown up.
"Use that," he instructed, gesturing to the water. "At least for the time being, it will help hold your hair down for a while. I suggest washing at the next stream you encounter." Dustfinger looked around, but he couldn't see the Black Prince anywhere. People were staring at him again, and clearly one child wanted him to perform- Dustfinger could see it in his eyes. He put his hands together and spoke gently to the fire, blew on his hands, and watched as the boy stared, amazed, at the fiery blue jay he had conjured. The Fire-Dancer smiled at him, then turned back to the girl.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 14:52:31 GMT -4
Post by Isabella "Issie" Alice Weberg on Feb 28, 2009 14:52:31 GMT -4
Issie had done as he told her for her hair. It seemed to work for the moment. She watched as he worked his magic with fire. “How did you do that?” she asked. Staring a the bird made of fire. “That’s…amazeing.” She said she whished she could do that, but no, all she had was a voice. True a really good voice, One that there was no way to ignore. But still, how much more would she be able to make if she could do what dustfinger could. She would never go hungry again, unlike now where she would go several days without eating. Pulse she doubted she would ever be cold. "I wish I could do that." she said. the bluejay had burn itself out, yet still the young boy stared at it. He was the same boy that issie had scared away with her look. Instantly Issie felt a small amount of remorse. she hadnt needed to scare that poor boy, she was just angery, and took it out on him. It was mean of her, then again she was mean a lot of the time, why should she start careing now.
Still the boy looked so small, if Issies sister had lived then she'd be a few years younger then him. At this thought the sad look entered her eyes again.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 15:10:17 GMT -4
Post by Dustfinger on Feb 28, 2009 15:10:17 GMT -4
Dustfinger blew the bird out with a few more words, and the ashes fell to the ground, forming a clean- relatively speaking- pile. The fire licked up from pile of black dust, this time forming a rabbit. The fiery rabbit ran around the boy, but whenever someone reached out to touch it, it darted away so as not to burn any young fingers. The Fire-Dancer watched his creation, then made a wolf as well. Finally, he made a torch grow from his hand and passed it to the girl next to him. "That will burn all night so long as it doesn't get wet. Wash upstream from the point where the dye contaminates the water, or you'll get it all over yourself."
The rabbit and wolf came back to their creator at a soft whistle, and then they too burned down to nothing. "Death taught me much, ten years ago, and none of it have I forgotten." He turned away from the large crowd that had gathered and held his hand out for his leather bottle, now empty of water. He planned on refilling it when he got to the stream, but he needed to find the Black Prince first.
|
|
|
A song
Feb 28, 2009 15:21:12 GMT -4
Post by Isabella "Issie" Alice Weberg on Feb 28, 2009 15:21:12 GMT -4
Issie took the torch, and then looked at the other fire animals. “You learned how to do this when you were dead…so the legends are true, you were dead.” She said. Her eyes grew in wonder. She wanted to ask what it was like, but something told her she shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. It just seemed like something you didn’t want to talk about. She watched as kids reached out to touch the rabbit. They could be so stupid; it was fire, why would you want to touch it. Maybe she was just more logical then many people, but she at least knew not to touch fire. Fire=burns. That didn’t take a large amount of brain power to figure out. It was something that every toddler knew. Most knew from experience. Issie herself had tried to grab fire when she was about five. Her mother had stopped her before she had done it though. And yelled at her for a good hour before letting her go back and play. But Issie never tried to touch fire again after that. She had learned her lesson, and had done so without receiving burns on her hand, which was good, because Issie didn’t think she could afford giving herself more ugly markings.
|
|
|
A song
Mar 1, 2009 13:10:26 GMT -4
Post by Dustfinger on Mar 1, 2009 13:10:26 GMT -4
That mysterious smile of his touched Dustfinger's face once more. "Of course I was dead. Legends don't lie. The Adderhead was immortal, the Bluejay comes from a land far, far away, Her Ugliness loved him- maybe still does, I do not see her enough to know- and the Fire-Dancer was dead." Okay, so legends lie, but not those legends, and such strange legends they were! But the Bluejay had made promise to bring the single immortal human in the world to Death, in exchange for three lives- his own, his daughter's, and the Fire-Dancer's. He had felt the need to give back the ten years of life he had stolen from Dustfinger, and since his return the two could read each other like books. Not that Dustfinger hadn't been able to before- and, in fact, he read Silvertongue more easily than he did a book. But now he could feel the other man's thoughts, could look right into his heart. Most of the songs didn't say anything like that, however. The songs just talked about the heroic aspects of it all, not the emotional parts like that.
|
|
|
A song
Mar 6, 2009 18:15:08 GMT -4
Post by Isabella "Issie" Alice Weberg on Mar 6, 2009 18:15:08 GMT -4
Issie looked at him oddly. she was thinking, it was funny how the songs and stories never ended at the ending, they don't say what happened to the people who went and did all these great brave things. they only say what the did. Still how much could that effect people. Issie was barley getting over her mother fathers and sister's deaths, and having to see, and hear them. Wouldn't it take longer to get over a death experience where you were the one that died? That was one of the many questions in her mind. the others were her wondering what it was like. would he know if it hurt or not, if there was some life after death? Were her parents and her sister there? were they happy? were they safe? she hoped they were. she wished she could talk to them. tell them how much she missed them, how much she loved them.
a question slipped from her mind to her mouth, "Is it...is it scary?" she asked. she meant being dead. she didn't want them to be scared. she wanted them happy. if she couldn't be happy, the could. Still she wouldn't blame him if he didn't answer. she looked away from him at this point, in order to hide her face.
|
|