
20th Spring 500 AV
It was early spring. The cool winter frost having now lifted to leave behind a wet dew and the low clouds filling the skies above the citadel. Not that the majority saw it from within their stone rooms and structures. They were safely tucked away working and toiling in various locations, whilst only a few managed to get outside to face the elements. Or at least, that was the way it seemed to little Fallon. It was quick and light feet that allowed the girl to sneak out within the early bells, to get away from the voices of the other children that filtered through the orphanage – as well as their firm prods and points. In boots that were too big the child ventured out into the world without a sound nor any mention as to where she was going. It was the way she worked after all, seeking segregation over interaction.
Keeping her head down she squirmed and worked her way past the people, shoulders hunched in, arms close and hugging her tiny frame. Nervous feet quickened, eyes turning to stare up at the giants that pushed and pulled. There was the distinct underlying smell of cold and sweat in the air, of flesh and bodies at work. There was a few downward sneers, a few pushes away as they noticed her. Distrust was upon their faces, for she nothing but a stranger to them and a child not to be trusted. Fingers brushed against the stone, a shudder as she shook off the chill of the rock. Syliras was an alien place to her, a maze of corridors and halls that lead to and from the very bowls. A daunting place to say the least, more so with the knights that hid their faces behind their visors. Who knew what frightening features could be found behind them?
Ducking out from around the corner it was the blast of fresh air that hit her first. She gave a gasp, startled almost to find such a source within the city. Feet quickened, small hands helping in wriggling on and through the sea of bodies, the thoughts of the outside world beckoning her. Senses became ensnared, her chin tilting up so she could look upon the breaking sky and the colours that danced across it. Feet gave a turn, eyes widening as she stopped and stared. Her lips gave a twitch as she looked with wonder, the once hugging hands falling to her sides. Strange faces, new people came and went from inside and out. There was a turn as she looked upon the lower buildings and those that were apart from the city proper, yet still remained close and clustered. Beyond that the tops of stores and market tables peaked out, with the voices of traders trying to sell wares to travellers.
Curiosity lead her on; different scents and sounds luring her mind to question her surroundings. Mud, meat, blood, sweat, sales, goods and wood. There was a bustle of hunters, the yapping of a hunting dog from outside the butchers. She paused to look at one of the stalls, or more over she was pushed aside by a larger man. Palms pressing against the edge she felt her chin clip the surface, and the entire stall gave a shudder. The goods moved and shifted, a few rolling to the edge the surface. There was a flinch, the trader turning his head to give a snarl, “Oi! Watch it you brat!”
Staggering away, her back pressed into another only to release another angry shout before a second push away, “Watch where you’re going! Damn it, beat it!” There was a scrabble of movement, a clawing of hands to get away and move. Then there was a firm grab upon the shoulder, followed by a distinct yank by the trader, ”I’m not done with you little lass! Where do you think you’re running off to? Going off to find your little thieving friends eh?”
Keeping her head down she squirmed and worked her way past the people, shoulders hunched in, arms close and hugging her tiny frame. Nervous feet quickened, eyes turning to stare up at the giants that pushed and pulled. There was the distinct underlying smell of cold and sweat in the air, of flesh and bodies at work. There was a few downward sneers, a few pushes away as they noticed her. Distrust was upon their faces, for she nothing but a stranger to them and a child not to be trusted. Fingers brushed against the stone, a shudder as she shook off the chill of the rock. Syliras was an alien place to her, a maze of corridors and halls that lead to and from the very bowls. A daunting place to say the least, more so with the knights that hid their faces behind their visors. Who knew what frightening features could be found behind them?
Ducking out from around the corner it was the blast of fresh air that hit her first. She gave a gasp, startled almost to find such a source within the city. Feet quickened, small hands helping in wriggling on and through the sea of bodies, the thoughts of the outside world beckoning her. Senses became ensnared, her chin tilting up so she could look upon the breaking sky and the colours that danced across it. Feet gave a turn, eyes widening as she stopped and stared. Her lips gave a twitch as she looked with wonder, the once hugging hands falling to her sides. Strange faces, new people came and went from inside and out. There was a turn as she looked upon the lower buildings and those that were apart from the city proper, yet still remained close and clustered. Beyond that the tops of stores and market tables peaked out, with the voices of traders trying to sell wares to travellers.
Curiosity lead her on; different scents and sounds luring her mind to question her surroundings. Mud, meat, blood, sweat, sales, goods and wood. There was a bustle of hunters, the yapping of a hunting dog from outside the butchers. She paused to look at one of the stalls, or more over she was pushed aside by a larger man. Palms pressing against the edge she felt her chin clip the surface, and the entire stall gave a shudder. The goods moved and shifted, a few rolling to the edge the surface. There was a flinch, the trader turning his head to give a snarl, “Oi! Watch it you brat!”
Staggering away, her back pressed into another only to release another angry shout before a second push away, “Watch where you’re going! Damn it, beat it!” There was a scrabble of movement, a clawing of hands to get away and move. Then there was a firm grab upon the shoulder, followed by a distinct yank by the trader, ”I’m not done with you little lass! Where do you think you’re running off to? Going off to find your little thieving friends eh?”
