Closed Yshul's Orphan

[Hadrian]

39th Winter, 512 A.V. Hadrian stepped out of Marcel's shop, his purchases carefully wrapped and tucked into his satchel, the which he held with one hand to prevent thievery. In truth, unless his mind was busy on something, it was difficult to steal from him. His auristic sense spread out in all directions. While he couldn't see a knife pulled behind him, he could send the flare of ill intent that plucked at the fabric of the evildoer's aura like a harp string. Just so with envy and avarice. Just so with hunger and need. Awareness was a bitch; one opened oneself up to the good and the bad, the joyous and the painful. While he was rather well-to-do, the majority of his coin was locked up in a safe until such time as his brilliant idea to found a bank came true. But there was a pouch at his hip, full of copper and silver, the change from his purchases, and that he did not guard. A potential thief might make of that what he or she would, but when money hung like ripe fruit, it could be difficult not to take advantage of it.

[Skaiira]

Hadrian. His name rings like a distant echo in my skull. I have been stalking him for a while now. He is renowned at the orphanage by the other kids as: ‘The man with a third eye in the back of his head’ and so I stick to the shadows. As far away as possible. I hold no grudges against the principal of Farson Home but I tell myself this has to be done. It’s a challenge. A challenge to put my recently honed skills to a real test. Not only that. It’s also, in my mind at least, a way to sever any and all remaining links to the orphanage. After this I’ll be done with that place for sure.

Hadrian finally steps out of the shop. He seems to be somewhat less alert than usual. I feel my body shake with anxiety and I know the time is right. Silently as I can I slip from the shadow of a house and duck down beneath some large pottery beside a shop. I look around cautiously. My hands sweaty, my heart thumping. I poke my head up over the pottery. Just enough to see. No one seems to have noticed me. Hadrian has his back turned. This is my chance, I know I won’t get another moment like this. I bite down hard on my lip to stop my hands from shaking and use the opportunity to strike.

Hadrian seems to be packing something in to his satchel as I creep as quietly as a mouse behind him. I do a quick check of my surroundings. No one appears to be watching. This moment couldn’t be more perfect. I don’t hesitate for a second as my hand snakes out for the pouch at his hip. From months of practice I untie the knot in less than a second and grab the pouch firmly. I'm ready to give it a good old yank. I know I shouldn’t but something feels off and I look up just in case. Hadrian is staring at me. His chlorine eyes burning holes in to mine. My heart sinks. I know I should run but my legs won’t budge. Sweat trickles down the side of my face. I part my lips to say something but nothing comes out. Oh shit Skaiira, you’ve really done it now...

[Hadrian]

Hadrian could not read minds, per se, but the intent was there in the aura and when his eyes met the boy's, he offered the slightest of smiles and then looked away. Perhaps it was a trap. Perhaps an offering. But it seemed the tales of the orphans were true. Skaiira might steal from him, but he would know it was happening. Perhaps Skaiira wasn't the only one judging now. But was one or the other of them found wanting? His satchel secured, he walked away. The laces of the pouch were undone, and so the pouch remained in the boy's hand. What he would do with it was up to him. Surely Skaiira had heard some praises said of him by the orphans, especially the older ones, who had the longest memories and understood more of what the regime change meant. How Hadrian was overseeing all their educations, encouraging them to become the very best citizens of Zeltiva, not just the urchins that nobody wanted to see on the streets. So there was a sticky moral question, and even young thieves had some sort of code, even if it was just answering the call of their own hungry bellies. Would it matter to Skaiira whether he stole from good men?

[Skaiira]

I stand there. Pouch in hand. Hadrian walks away as if nothing happened and it feels like I’ve just been hit by a great big rock. My eyes move from Hadrian and back to the pouch in my hand. I feel a mix of emotion. I’m confused. My mouth starts to quiver and anger decides to make it’s appearance first. “Hadrian!!” I find myself shouting as I point a finger at the tall man. Some people have stopped to look at us but I don’t give a shit. “...Y-you just walk away with that stupid smile on your face as if nothing ever happened!? I don’t need your damn pity!!”

I’m tempted to throw the pouch at his face but somehow I manage to keep a notch of common sense. By now everyone has stopped to watch. Every muscle in my body is telling me to run. The logical part of my mind is telling me I should thank my lucky stars and just get the hell out of here. For some reason I can’t. Emotion has me locked tight and the memories of Farson Home come flooding in all of a sudden. I feel my eyes well up and I bite down hard on my lip. I pinch myself for being so stupid. Who cares, I’m done with that place!

[Hadrian]

Hadrian paused, half-turning back to regard the boy who knew his name, but whose name he didn't know. His dark brow beetled at that mystery, but then he shrugged and waited. "Well, I need to go this way now, so if you don't want me walking away, you ought to catch up, don't you think?" Then that smile again, not meant to be infuriating, before he turned to keep walking. The boy had what he wanted: he had stolen from Hadrian. If Hadrian had let him do it, well, Hadrian could make more in one season than the boy might in his whole life. Noblesse oblige. But he was curious as to how the boy knew his name. Hadrian loved a good mystery to unravel.

[Skaiira]

I start to calm down. The anger subsides and I’m wondering why I got so worked up in the first place. I suddenly feel like an asshole. It was never this mans fault. He never did anything to me. If it’s any ones fault it’s mine. My own cowardice. Not being able to face the truth. Her face flashes in my mind and guilt pierces me like an arrow through an apple. “...I …” My throat feels raw. I clutch the pouch tight until my fingers go white. He’s smiling again but it’s not a mocking smile. Somehow it feels warm. Promising.

The headmaster is walking away. I feel like my past life is leaving with him. Is it really something I can throw away so easy? No. No that would be wrong. I would become a nobody. No different from those thugs down in east street. No, worse than that. I’d be a promise breaker. I can’t. I won’t. No more running. I will face the truth like a man.

“Hadrian, that is your name right? Catch!!” I give the pouch a good old hurl in hopes the new headmaster of Farson Home has good eye-hand co-ordination. “I have a few things I need to work out right now but when I do, I’ll come pay the home a visit. That’s a promise!” I exclaim loud enough for all of Zeltiva to hear. I turn to make my own leave when I forget to say, “Oh! ...and err... Sorry!” I place my hands in to my pockets and walk away. Feeling like I understand my self a little better.

[Hadrian]

The young enchanter turned once more when his name was repeated. Unfortunately, physical skills were not his talents, and so the pouch bounced off him and to the ground despite his best efforts. Flushing slightly, he crouched to pick it up, his eyes on the runaway. He thought about calling out, or even hypnotizing him, but that really wasn't his way. If the boy said he would come, then Hadrian would wait. Either he would come to the gate and Hadrian would let him in, or he would manage to sneak over the walls and then Hadrian would ask where there was a breach in security. He didn't want some crazed child thief to kidnap any of his charges. He watched the boy walk away, then tied the pouch back to his belt, and continued on.

[Echelon]

Adventurer's Loot A Gift Experience is its own reward. Hadrian's Loot : Hadrian Skill XP Reward Anthropology +1XP Socialization +1XP Leadership +1XP Lore: "Awareness is A Bitch" Seeming The Perfect Target Leading With Action Trusting Another's Heart Free From Earthly Possessions Items or Consequences: None Notes: None Skaiira's Loot : Skaiira Skill XP Reward Stealth +1XP Observation +1XP Lore: Targeting A True Challenge Caught In The Act The Unfamiliar Sensation of Trust And Moral Responsibility Conducting One's Self Like A Man Items or Consequences: None Notes: Ok, tense... tisk tisk Skaiira. Where is your cohesiveness? In Mizahar you need to write in third person past tense just like everyone else, or the story just doesn't flow between characters. Tense aside your writing is quite promising. (Oooo what a great meet and greet. Hope to see more of you two together!) - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, please PM me.