Fic: The Last Night of Her Life (SP)
First and foremost - I'm praying for you, Elle.
Next, I went on the trip this weekend thinking I would just read and read and read. I ended up staring out the window most of the time, mulling over some Streetlight People ideas. This is the first of many new scenes I'm hoping to get out of my head in the next couple of days.
This is, I think, the first scene in the Streetlight People story. I think. It feels like it. Right now, at least.
Title: The Last Night of Her Life
Fandom: Streetlight People 'verse
Characters: Kilce, some others
Word Count: 1168
Prompt: C is for Contrast from Aster's Alphabetical List of Doom
Summary: The game can't last forever but it doesn't matter because she's already gotten what she came for.
“That’s the last of my money. Ye’ve magic in you girl, of that I’m sure.”
Kilce tried to smile but the muscles in her face wouldn’t cooperate. She knew it was just old men talking, as they were want to do when their cups of ale had been filled too many times and the cards in their hands never cooperated. Zelk didn’t mean anything of it. He wasn’t about to call the Guard, or any such nonsense like that. No one here would ever call the Guard because this wasn’t an establishment that took too kindly to having the premises suddenly on the radar of the regiment that patrolled the streets, looking for any excuse to come swinging their fists and cudgels.
Instead of smiling, she found herself grimacing at the old man, his sea cap pushed off his forehead to show his glistening forehead. Not all of that sweat was from the heavy air that swirled through the closed room, all the worse for the rain that pounded outside.
“Magic?” Swinging her head slowly from side to side, she focused everything inside her on the rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of his cheek. It would land on the grimy neck of his shirt that had once been blue and had long since turned gray. Right where she would strike with her fist if she meant to kill him. “You’re just angry that you’ve lost your whole week’s wages to a girl. Again.”
The room erupted with laughter, dispelling her anger. Neth, the evening’s host since this was his meat house, clapped the cringing man on his skinny shoulder. “She’d right, Zelk. You know better than to play the game when you’ve got nothing laid aside for essentials. Serves you right if you go home and find your mam has left you for better pickings.”
“Me mam’s been dead for twenty years,” he grumbled but any anger Zelk harbored had dissipated with the ribbing. Kilce wouldn’t have done anything rash but it was nice to be able to sit back in her chair and smile at the man sitting across from her without fear that she might do something she would regret.
The dealer began shuffling the cards, effectively ending the conversations that murmured throughout the room. Kilce found her eyes drawn to the well-worn edges, her heart racing with anticipation for the first card that landed in front of her. Would she come out on top once again? Would this be the hand that diminished her pile almost completely so that she was the one limping back home with nothing to show for her fun?
It was no use trying to decide ahead of time if she was going to win or not. All she could do was count up the required coins and scraps of paper to put in the middle and let the luck come or pass her by.
The first card landed in front of her with only the whisper of sound. She held her breath as she casually flipped it over - the snarling lion. Already, she was ahead of the luck. Another card landed in front of her - the black void. The next two were completely blank but that didn’t matter. She was almost completely assured of a win.
Everyone flipped their cards over to a chorus of cheers and groans. The dealer called out the half of the table that needed to add to the pile of winnings before he filled out the list of winners, dividing up the pile with a practiced eye.
“Juvan, you get a seventh. Yels, a seventh for you. A third of the remaining goes to Hunts. The rest to Kilce.”
Kilce gathered her share toward her part of the table, not bothering to count it to see if it had been done properly. She’d never been cheated at these games before, seeing as it would be death to both the dealer and the host if anything untoward happened during the course of the game. There was talk of all sorts of cheating in the New City, where there actual gambling establishments that took a person’s money before they’d taken more than a few steps through the door.
She’d never seen the establishments for herself but she had a connection to one of the leaders of the ring of thieves that called the place home. There was no guilt attached to her actions. What she’d done had been done to someone without morals. They deserved the theft of the painting just as much as she deserved the well-padded pockets for her part in both the planning and the execution.
It was the only reason she was here tonight. The money she’d earned on the sale of the painting had been marked, she was sure. She would win and lose tonight, depending on how the fates smiled on her, but the most important thing would be that the money would be evenly distributed amongst the group so that not a single one of them could be pegged for the job based on the money they used for food and rent over the next week.
This was not the first time the weekly game had been used for this purpose but it was the first time that Kilce had attempted it. She’d alerted Neth, as was the custom. The host was always co-conspirator to these antics, taking a share of all that she payed in at the end of the game. With her taking tonight, they would both be guaranteed a decent sum.
“One more?” Neth asked of the group as it appeared that all their banter had been used up for the evening. “A parting gift for Kilce, if you will.”
“Parting gift?” several people asked.
“She’s going away to school.”
Silence met the declaration. No one dared to meet her eyes as she glanced around to see the reactions of the room. No one from Old City held much for learning, other than the knowledge you gained on the streets. To go to school, and there was only one, meant leaving these streets and alleyways that were her home. Grantson Academy catered to the people of New City. By doing this, by changing the course of her life, she was giving up everything for something she could only assume would be better. Or, at the very least, different.
“Be ye well,” Zelk murmured, his knuckles grazing the tabletop in the gentlest of knocks. The other men followed suit, giving a salute to a fallen comrade as they would after a violent storm swept a ship against the sheer walls of rock that lined the coast. It was the sign of deepest respect.
It was a struggle not to let the tears flow but Kilce kept them bottled deep. She pasted a bright smile on her face. Tomorrow she would be dead to these men but she still had tonight. “Ante up, boys. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need to some more luck.”
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.
Next, I went on the trip this weekend thinking I would just read and read and read. I ended up staring out the window most of the time, mulling over some Streetlight People ideas. This is the first of many new scenes I'm hoping to get out of my head in the next couple of days.
This is, I think, the first scene in the Streetlight People story. I think. It feels like it. Right now, at least.
Title: The Last Night of Her Life
Fandom: Streetlight People 'verse
Characters: Kilce, some others
Word Count: 1168
Prompt: C is for Contrast from Aster's Alphabetical List of Doom
Summary: The game can't last forever but it doesn't matter because she's already gotten what she came for.
“That’s the last of my money. Ye’ve magic in you girl, of that I’m sure.”
Kilce tried to smile but the muscles in her face wouldn’t cooperate. She knew it was just old men talking, as they were want to do when their cups of ale had been filled too many times and the cards in their hands never cooperated. Zelk didn’t mean anything of it. He wasn’t about to call the Guard, or any such nonsense like that. No one here would ever call the Guard because this wasn’t an establishment that took too kindly to having the premises suddenly on the radar of the regiment that patrolled the streets, looking for any excuse to come swinging their fists and cudgels.
Instead of smiling, she found herself grimacing at the old man, his sea cap pushed off his forehead to show his glistening forehead. Not all of that sweat was from the heavy air that swirled through the closed room, all the worse for the rain that pounded outside.
“Magic?” Swinging her head slowly from side to side, she focused everything inside her on the rivulet of sweat rolling down the side of his cheek. It would land on the grimy neck of his shirt that had once been blue and had long since turned gray. Right where she would strike with her fist if she meant to kill him. “You’re just angry that you’ve lost your whole week’s wages to a girl. Again.”
The room erupted with laughter, dispelling her anger. Neth, the evening’s host since this was his meat house, clapped the cringing man on his skinny shoulder. “She’d right, Zelk. You know better than to play the game when you’ve got nothing laid aside for essentials. Serves you right if you go home and find your mam has left you for better pickings.”
“Me mam’s been dead for twenty years,” he grumbled but any anger Zelk harbored had dissipated with the ribbing. Kilce wouldn’t have done anything rash but it was nice to be able to sit back in her chair and smile at the man sitting across from her without fear that she might do something she would regret.
The dealer began shuffling the cards, effectively ending the conversations that murmured throughout the room. Kilce found her eyes drawn to the well-worn edges, her heart racing with anticipation for the first card that landed in front of her. Would she come out on top once again? Would this be the hand that diminished her pile almost completely so that she was the one limping back home with nothing to show for her fun?
It was no use trying to decide ahead of time if she was going to win or not. All she could do was count up the required coins and scraps of paper to put in the middle and let the luck come or pass her by.
The first card landed in front of her with only the whisper of sound. She held her breath as she casually flipped it over - the snarling lion. Already, she was ahead of the luck. Another card landed in front of her - the black void. The next two were completely blank but that didn’t matter. She was almost completely assured of a win.
Everyone flipped their cards over to a chorus of cheers and groans. The dealer called out the half of the table that needed to add to the pile of winnings before he filled out the list of winners, dividing up the pile with a practiced eye.
“Juvan, you get a seventh. Yels, a seventh for you. A third of the remaining goes to Hunts. The rest to Kilce.”
Kilce gathered her share toward her part of the table, not bothering to count it to see if it had been done properly. She’d never been cheated at these games before, seeing as it would be death to both the dealer and the host if anything untoward happened during the course of the game. There was talk of all sorts of cheating in the New City, where there actual gambling establishments that took a person’s money before they’d taken more than a few steps through the door.
She’d never seen the establishments for herself but she had a connection to one of the leaders of the ring of thieves that called the place home. There was no guilt attached to her actions. What she’d done had been done to someone without morals. They deserved the theft of the painting just as much as she deserved the well-padded pockets for her part in both the planning and the execution.
It was the only reason she was here tonight. The money she’d earned on the sale of the painting had been marked, she was sure. She would win and lose tonight, depending on how the fates smiled on her, but the most important thing would be that the money would be evenly distributed amongst the group so that not a single one of them could be pegged for the job based on the money they used for food and rent over the next week.
This was not the first time the weekly game had been used for this purpose but it was the first time that Kilce had attempted it. She’d alerted Neth, as was the custom. The host was always co-conspirator to these antics, taking a share of all that she payed in at the end of the game. With her taking tonight, they would both be guaranteed a decent sum.
“One more?” Neth asked of the group as it appeared that all their banter had been used up for the evening. “A parting gift for Kilce, if you will.”
“Parting gift?” several people asked.
“She’s going away to school.”
Silence met the declaration. No one dared to meet her eyes as she glanced around to see the reactions of the room. No one from Old City held much for learning, other than the knowledge you gained on the streets. To go to school, and there was only one, meant leaving these streets and alleyways that were her home. Grantson Academy catered to the people of New City. By doing this, by changing the course of her life, she was giving up everything for something she could only assume would be better. Or, at the very least, different.
“Be ye well,” Zelk murmured, his knuckles grazing the tabletop in the gentlest of knocks. The other men followed suit, giving a salute to a fallen comrade as they would after a violent storm swept a ship against the sheer walls of rock that lined the coast. It was the sign of deepest respect.
It was a struggle not to let the tears flow but Kilce kept them bottled deep. She pasted a bright smile on her face. Tomorrow she would be dead to these men but she still had tonight. “Ante up, boys. I’ve a feeling I’m going to need to some more luck.”
This entry was cross posted at dreamwidth - where the cool kids hang out.