(no subject)
Cobblestones and prominent stoops on corner stores, windows cut in fours and wagons rolled by hand or hoof. Hills lolled past town borders, and carriages and travelling shows came in and out. Stray dogs played with children out of school, and the air was clean. Too clean.
Not of smog, but from old pollution of out-of-date sewers and rotting garbage, rats infesting small window gardens and trash pails, flies everywhere.
It didn't exist.
"Up here."
Xaldin made a brief gesture to a store so small and so plain, it could have been missed due to its boring existence.
Neither Xaldin or Arixima entered the shop, and simply stared into the polished windows, at the clocks on the walls and toys on the shelves, and the puppets dangling from the support rafters. All made of wood. A goldfish even swam unaware in front of them, in its tiny bowl, and a black-and-white kitten napped on the corner of a table, where an old man was solely focused on his son-turned-living, doting him and teaching him the basics of reading.
"It lives on only a soul?" Arixima peered sceptically at her companion. "Doesn't that make it one of us?"
"Master says it doesn't have a heart. A puppet. But it's incomplete, as you can tell. It needs a second voice to be its heart. That matchbox, over on the shelves. See the cricket sitting on it?"
"A conscience." She snorted. "Why do we have one then, if we lack hearts too?"
Xaldin shook his head. "We had them once. That's all the answer I need. Come on, it'll be a while more before the old man sends the puppet out to join the kids at school. We'll make a move then."
He moved away, and she followed wordlessly. Her ankle boots struck the ground with a different sound than they did in the Labyrinth, and she paid all her attention on the noise, to keep from thinking of all the unlikliness of the town and its folk. In fact, she was almost able to tune out the entire background, until something collided abruptly with her leg.
The child didn't even say 'I'm sorry', while she stared up and at Arixima. An oversized lollipop in hand and pigtails in her light brown hair--
--her father always made the pigtails too tight, and the boys always tugged on them, making her cry, making her hit them, making them cry back. That one boy, Jaidel, always took her treats--
--"You're dressed funny."
Arixima buckled at the knees, and suddenly, Xaldin was holding her elbow, holding her upright. A memory. A memory! Somehow, she managed to smile wearily at the girl. "Don't ever tell your parents trousers are just for boys, okay?"
Xaldin led her away quickly, and Arixima tried to keep up, but he was going too fast and her body was not cooperating, much to her self-disgust and frustration. A small, olden café was around the corner, with three tables and two chairs each, and Xaldin sat her down in one, and he across from her. His brows were drawn together, in their own confusion and concern. "What happened?"
"It was a lapse in sanity," she spat. "It won't happen again."
Idly though, Arixima managed to finger her hair...and decided it was long enough to make these 'pigtail' things.
I lub civvi-dressed Orggies~
Can't make heads or tails out of what Xaldin or Vexen would wear, but the rest? ...I wish I could draw them. *tear*