90th of winter, 519 AV
Alard, predictably, hadn't been pleased with her latest stunt. In fact, he'd been downright furious. She was locked in the apartment with threats of never being allowed outside again looming over her, her back sore from the whip Alard had procured especially for the occasion. The broken skin and bruises were beginning to heal finally, but there had been a period of time afterwards where even breathing hurt.
She lay on her cot for days, tears streaming down her face and drying on her skin only for more to follow the same tracks. Was it really worth it? She'd told Imogen it was. Was it?
She had to keep believing it was true, but it was getting so hard. The dagger hidden under the floorboard in the closet practically screamed her name, but she knew she would never win a fight against Alard, and she couldn't keep pulling these stunts if she wanted to survive intact; but without those small doses of freedom, she would have long ago gone insane.
Unbidden, the trip to the Outpost that had caused all this came to mind. 'Why don't you just stay here?' The echo of Atmish's voice rang in her head, almost mockingly. Why didn't she? Would Alard be able to follow her to the Outpost? Did he even know it existed?
Even if he did, would he be able to find her there, in territory unfamiliar to both of them? If he could, would he even have a claim over here there? So many questions, as usual, and par for the course, no answers. But the thought wouldn't leave Aster's mind.
She would essentially be trapped, of course; assuming she was safe in the Outpost, she wouldn't be able to return to Sunberth. Alard would be on the look-out for her, and if he found her...well. She'd be lucky to survive, of that much she was certain.
She would have to stay in the Outpost until she was confident enough to return; that she either had enough money to get herself out of Sunberth right away, or the skills to take Alard in a fight and win. Both were long roads; she could see them stretching into the distance, the goals barely in sight. But the road she was on now was the longest; she didn't even know if it had an end.
So without even realizing it, it seemed that her decision was made. It was terrifying, that much was true; she knew nobody, really, had no money, no job lined up, nowhere to stay...but she would figure it out. She had to. She couldn't keep staying here, and she'd been given an open opportunity to get out, get away. It was conditional, a fancy safe house essentially, but it was the best she was going to get. Better than she could have asked for, really.
Aster waited. She waited for her back to heal up enough that walking didn't make her cringe, and she waited for Alard to think she had grown complacent again, and she waited for her moment.
She hoped Imogen would know where to come find her. But the girl was smart; Aster was sure she would figure it out. Almost without realizing it, her chance came one day. Aster woke groggily from her sleep to Alard leaving the apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him. She blinked sleepily, listening to his footsteps fade away.
She suddenly knew it was time to act. Scrambling to her feet, Aster threw off her blankets, heart pounding in her chest. Her back still ached slightly, but she ignored it. She scrambled around the apartment, grabbing a worn bag and scampering into the closet.
She pried up the floorboard hiding her secret stash of items, and carefully pulled it out; in went the knickknacks from Jala and Imogen, and carefully the Kihala statuette followed, along with anything else she had collected over her time with Alard. Aster fastened the cloak around her, and grabbed the dagger, tucking it into the waistband of her pants.
Double-checking to make sure she had all of her few belongings, Aster didn't bother replacing the floorboard as she stood up. She grabbed her few changes of clothing as well, stuffing those into her bag, and looked around the apartment. Was there anything she was forgetting?
She had no money. Surely Alard kept his spare coins somewhere in the apartment? He didn't carry all his money on him at once, unless he was somehow that stupid. Aster quickly searched through the apartment, tearing through dresser drawers and looking under furniture; she had nearly given up when she finally stuck her arm underneath Alard's mattress, and her fingers brushed a cloth pouch that jingled, the sound muffled by the mattress.
"Jackpot," she mumbled, pulling the pouch out. She didn't bother to count it, instead simply tossing it into her bag. Her own belongings, check, weapon, check, clothing, check, money, check...she swept her gaze around the apartment one last time and then turned. Now to deal with the door.
Word Count: 842
She lay on her cot for days, tears streaming down her face and drying on her skin only for more to follow the same tracks. Was it really worth it? She'd told Imogen it was. Was it?
She had to keep believing it was true, but it was getting so hard. The dagger hidden under the floorboard in the closet practically screamed her name, but she knew she would never win a fight against Alard, and she couldn't keep pulling these stunts if she wanted to survive intact; but without those small doses of freedom, she would have long ago gone insane.
Unbidden, the trip to the Outpost that had caused all this came to mind. 'Why don't you just stay here?' The echo of Atmish's voice rang in her head, almost mockingly. Why didn't she? Would Alard be able to follow her to the Outpost? Did he even know it existed?
Even if he did, would he be able to find her there, in territory unfamiliar to both of them? If he could, would he even have a claim over here there? So many questions, as usual, and par for the course, no answers. But the thought wouldn't leave Aster's mind.
She would essentially be trapped, of course; assuming she was safe in the Outpost, she wouldn't be able to return to Sunberth. Alard would be on the look-out for her, and if he found her...well. She'd be lucky to survive, of that much she was certain.
She would have to stay in the Outpost until she was confident enough to return; that she either had enough money to get herself out of Sunberth right away, or the skills to take Alard in a fight and win. Both were long roads; she could see them stretching into the distance, the goals barely in sight. But the road she was on now was the longest; she didn't even know if it had an end.
So without even realizing it, it seemed that her decision was made. It was terrifying, that much was true; she knew nobody, really, had no money, no job lined up, nowhere to stay...but she would figure it out. She had to. She couldn't keep staying here, and she'd been given an open opportunity to get out, get away. It was conditional, a fancy safe house essentially, but it was the best she was going to get. Better than she could have asked for, really.
Aster waited. She waited for her back to heal up enough that walking didn't make her cringe, and she waited for Alard to think she had grown complacent again, and she waited for her moment.
She hoped Imogen would know where to come find her. But the girl was smart; Aster was sure she would figure it out. Almost without realizing it, her chance came one day. Aster woke groggily from her sleep to Alard leaving the apartment, slamming and locking the door behind him. She blinked sleepily, listening to his footsteps fade away.
She suddenly knew it was time to act. Scrambling to her feet, Aster threw off her blankets, heart pounding in her chest. Her back still ached slightly, but she ignored it. She scrambled around the apartment, grabbing a worn bag and scampering into the closet.
She pried up the floorboard hiding her secret stash of items, and carefully pulled it out; in went the knickknacks from Jala and Imogen, and carefully the Kihala statuette followed, along with anything else she had collected over her time with Alard. Aster fastened the cloak around her, and grabbed the dagger, tucking it into the waistband of her pants.
Double-checking to make sure she had all of her few belongings, Aster didn't bother replacing the floorboard as she stood up. She grabbed her few changes of clothing as well, stuffing those into her bag, and looked around the apartment. Was there anything she was forgetting?
She had no money. Surely Alard kept his spare coins somewhere in the apartment? He didn't carry all his money on him at once, unless he was somehow that stupid. Aster quickly searched through the apartment, tearing through dresser drawers and looking under furniture; she had nearly given up when she finally stuck her arm underneath Alard's mattress, and her fingers brushed a cloth pouch that jingled, the sound muffled by the mattress.
"Jackpot," she mumbled, pulling the pouch out. She didn't bother to count it, instead simply tossing it into her bag. Her own belongings, check, weapon, check, clothing, check, money, check...she swept her gaze around the apartment one last time and then turned. Now to deal with the door.
Word Count: 842
Money Note :