[Silence] Sharded Fragments
(( These posts are background and stories for my Sharded Larp character. This information is NOT CONSIDERED IN CHARACTER at any time, unless I specifically state so at the beginning of the post. ))
Her mother always sang pretty songs when she sewed, and the young girl latched onto them as one of the few bright things remaining in the world. She would hum along with her mother until she learned the words, and then she would sing along quietly. The two would work for hours on end, making new clothes and repairing pieces that had worn down or been damaged. There was always something that was damaged and needed to be fixed, brought to them either by her own family or the three others they travelled with. She'd become rather skilled with a needle, and could even work while sitting in the back of the wagon while on the trails.
She worked in the dark, as close to the small fire as she could manage to get without burning herself. The hem of her skirt was still attached, and she worked on it without bothering to take it off. It was the only one she had, anyway.
Someone nearby called her name. She looked for the person, but couldn't see them right away. She stood up too fast, and as she heard her name again she tripped on the hem of her skirt. She landed on her side, and felt a rock dig painfully into her ribs.
That's not right, she thought, there aren't any rocks here!
The rock kicked her again. I'm sleeping.
'Get UP!'
The dream was broken, and she rolled to avoid a third kick. The boot retreated, and a man's sallow, half-sunken face appeared as he leaned down to peer under the table.
'Get up.'
She blinked in the dim light, and rolled out from under the table before the man could change his mind and kick her again. She could already feel her ribs complaining to her. She reached out to the edge of the table and pulled herself up, and instantly regretted it. With a scraping noise, the shackles the man kept on his belt slid around her wrists.
'I'm leaving. Pack up.' He tugged on the chain securing the shackles to his belt, and she staggered forward. He pushed against her back, sending her toward a small shelf and a chest. 'And hurry. I have better things to do with my time than wait for you. Did you finish making the bread last night?'
She nodded silently, pointing to the loaf sitting under a piece of cloth. The man yanked off the cloth and tossed it on the floor, examining the bread.
'That's it?' He poked at the small loaf. 'That's all you managed to bake? Are you that stupid that you can't even make bread?' He continued muttering to himself as he picked up the loaf, breaking a chunk off and biting into it. Crumbs fell onto his robe as he sat down in the padded chair next to the table. 'Bring me some wine, girl. And the cheese in the trunk.' He yanked on the chain again, nearly tripping her as she neared the shelves. 'The other trunk, idiot.'
She skittered across the room, gathering a jug of wine, a glass, and a wrapped hunk of cheese from the trunk. She had to stand facing it sideways, otherwise the chains wouldn't let her reach inside. She brought it over to the table as fast as she could, uncorking the jug and pouring the man a glass. He snatched it out of her hand before she could offer it.
He slurped and chewed contentedly for a moment, then set his eyes on her. '... What are you staring at?' he demanded, and followed her gaze to the bread on the table. 'You think you're hungry? Hah!' He shoved the bread out of her reach, then pushed her toward the shelves again. 'I told you to pack up. Maybe if you're finished before I'm done eating, I'll let you have the rest. Get to work.'
He was eating. This meant that for a brief time, she'd be left alone. She hurried, packing up the clothing, dishes, and other things he kept on the shelves when he was staying put for a while. They were moving less often now, which was in a way a blessing. There was less packing and unpacking, but it meant after a while she had to search for something to do so she would look busy. If she didn't look busy, he would notice, and that was never a good thing.
She closed the chest, and turned back to him. He was still stuffing his face. How a man that ate so much stayed so thin, she coudldn't guess, but he managed it. It was likely the Death magic, she suspected. She'd never seen a fat Necromancer before.
It was just now turning light. Still tired, she risked retribution and sat down on the chest. Finally, the Necromancer hid a belch behind his hand and grinned at her. 'Finished, are we? Get up. Let's see if you did your job.' He pulled her to her feet, and she winced as the shackles dug into her skin again. He only replaced them when the hinge was ready to fall apart, and never mind the dings and scrapes they caused her flesh in the meantime.
He shoved various things around the chest, grumbling to himself. 'It'll do. Eat. You have five minutes.'
She made a beeline for the table. There was a chunk of bread half the size of her fist, and two slices of cheese. She ate them in record time, and even finished his glass of wine. The instant she was done he pointed to the chest.
'Sit.'
As she followed his direction, he made a call she always refused to pay close attention to. She looked straight at the ground and closed her eyes as two half-rotted corpses shambled in, and the Necromancer spoke to them. 'Take the table and shelves to the wagon, and pack up the other room.' The creatures grunted and began carrying away the heavier items.
The Darkcaster swatted her shoulder to wake her up. 'I didn't say you could sleep, girl. Get up.' She stumbled to her feet and shuffled away from the chest, following the man outside the half-collapsed building they'd been staying in. It had probably been someone's house at one time.
The wagon was one of the few well-kept things the man had. He settled himself on the narrow bench, then tugged on the chains. 'Up.' She climbed onto the narrow step and seated herself, wrapping an arm around the side railing so she wouldn't fall off. Her stomach rumbled as the wagon jerked into movement, and she figured now was a safe time. She reached into a hidden pocket of her tattered dress (it had been easy to sew into the seam when the hem ripped ans eh had to shorten it) and pulled out a small biscuit. She'd made a few last night out of the bread dough, and since the wagon was moving the Necromancer wouldn't be paying attention to the fact that she was eating. She nibbled carefully so she wouldn't choke, and sighed.
This was her life.
Her mother always sang pretty songs when she sewed, and the young girl latched onto them as one of the few bright things remaining in the world. She would hum along with her mother until she learned the words, and then she would sing along quietly. The two would work for hours on end, making new clothes and repairing pieces that had worn down or been damaged. There was always something that was damaged and needed to be fixed, brought to them either by her own family or the three others they travelled with. She'd become rather skilled with a needle, and could even work while sitting in the back of the wagon while on the trails.
She worked in the dark, as close to the small fire as she could manage to get without burning herself. The hem of her skirt was still attached, and she worked on it without bothering to take it off. It was the only one she had, anyway.
Someone nearby called her name. She looked for the person, but couldn't see them right away. She stood up too fast, and as she heard her name again she tripped on the hem of her skirt. She landed on her side, and felt a rock dig painfully into her ribs.
That's not right, she thought, there aren't any rocks here!
The rock kicked her again. I'm sleeping.
'Get UP!'
The dream was broken, and she rolled to avoid a third kick. The boot retreated, and a man's sallow, half-sunken face appeared as he leaned down to peer under the table.
'Get up.'
She blinked in the dim light, and rolled out from under the table before the man could change his mind and kick her again. She could already feel her ribs complaining to her. She reached out to the edge of the table and pulled herself up, and instantly regretted it. With a scraping noise, the shackles the man kept on his belt slid around her wrists.
'I'm leaving. Pack up.' He tugged on the chain securing the shackles to his belt, and she staggered forward. He pushed against her back, sending her toward a small shelf and a chest. 'And hurry. I have better things to do with my time than wait for you. Did you finish making the bread last night?'
She nodded silently, pointing to the loaf sitting under a piece of cloth. The man yanked off the cloth and tossed it on the floor, examining the bread.
'That's it?' He poked at the small loaf. 'That's all you managed to bake? Are you that stupid that you can't even make bread?' He continued muttering to himself as he picked up the loaf, breaking a chunk off and biting into it. Crumbs fell onto his robe as he sat down in the padded chair next to the table. 'Bring me some wine, girl. And the cheese in the trunk.' He yanked on the chain again, nearly tripping her as she neared the shelves. 'The other trunk, idiot.'
She skittered across the room, gathering a jug of wine, a glass, and a wrapped hunk of cheese from the trunk. She had to stand facing it sideways, otherwise the chains wouldn't let her reach inside. She brought it over to the table as fast as she could, uncorking the jug and pouring the man a glass. He snatched it out of her hand before she could offer it.
He slurped and chewed contentedly for a moment, then set his eyes on her. '... What are you staring at?' he demanded, and followed her gaze to the bread on the table. 'You think you're hungry? Hah!' He shoved the bread out of her reach, then pushed her toward the shelves again. 'I told you to pack up. Maybe if you're finished before I'm done eating, I'll let you have the rest. Get to work.'
He was eating. This meant that for a brief time, she'd be left alone. She hurried, packing up the clothing, dishes, and other things he kept on the shelves when he was staying put for a while. They were moving less often now, which was in a way a blessing. There was less packing and unpacking, but it meant after a while she had to search for something to do so she would look busy. If she didn't look busy, he would notice, and that was never a good thing.
She closed the chest, and turned back to him. He was still stuffing his face. How a man that ate so much stayed so thin, she coudldn't guess, but he managed it. It was likely the Death magic, she suspected. She'd never seen a fat Necromancer before.
It was just now turning light. Still tired, she risked retribution and sat down on the chest. Finally, the Necromancer hid a belch behind his hand and grinned at her. 'Finished, are we? Get up. Let's see if you did your job.' He pulled her to her feet, and she winced as the shackles dug into her skin again. He only replaced them when the hinge was ready to fall apart, and never mind the dings and scrapes they caused her flesh in the meantime.
He shoved various things around the chest, grumbling to himself. 'It'll do. Eat. You have five minutes.'
She made a beeline for the table. There was a chunk of bread half the size of her fist, and two slices of cheese. She ate them in record time, and even finished his glass of wine. The instant she was done he pointed to the chest.
'Sit.'
As she followed his direction, he made a call she always refused to pay close attention to. She looked straight at the ground and closed her eyes as two half-rotted corpses shambled in, and the Necromancer spoke to them. 'Take the table and shelves to the wagon, and pack up the other room.' The creatures grunted and began carrying away the heavier items.
The Darkcaster swatted her shoulder to wake her up. 'I didn't say you could sleep, girl. Get up.' She stumbled to her feet and shuffled away from the chest, following the man outside the half-collapsed building they'd been staying in. It had probably been someone's house at one time.
The wagon was one of the few well-kept things the man had. He settled himself on the narrow bench, then tugged on the chains. 'Up.' She climbed onto the narrow step and seated herself, wrapping an arm around the side railing so she wouldn't fall off. Her stomach rumbled as the wagon jerked into movement, and she figured now was a safe time. She reached into a hidden pocket of her tattered dress (it had been easy to sew into the seam when the hem ripped ans eh had to shorten it) and pulled out a small biscuit. She'd made a few last night out of the bread dough, and since the wagon was moving the Necromancer wouldn't be paying attention to the fact that she was eating. She nibbled carefully so she wouldn't choke, and sighed.
This was her life.