Homecoming [LEA]

It was an old, worn place with few rich citizens and large buildings. But despite that first glance, the city was still bustling, due to the presence of markets and stalls along its dusty roads.

Darting through the crowds of this old, dry, dusty city was a man who was covered in head to toe by some dark, magical cloth. The hooded person resembled a blackened shadow, an umbra in human form. His black cloak flowed out behind him like rips of the velvet night itself. The men who were chasing this shadow of the day, however, were undeterred, pushing down and trampling over every one in their path, screaming “Stop thief! Thief!” at the top of their lungs.

Aer had no intention of succumbing to that arrogant man’s demands. Only his guards were able to keep up for now, that fat bastard who threw his money around at everything else while working a poor, sick man to his bones. For a moment, the gold pocket watch he stole dangled from his hand by its chains, only to be snatched up again and placed into a pocket.

And then, out of the blue, someone stood in front of him. A peculiar man with white hair and what seemed to be an engraving of some kind over his silvery eyes. The man was dressed in odd clothing, even sporting a masquerade-type mask like a clasp against the fuzzy-looking cloth on his neck. But the oddest thing at all about this man was not his hair, his marking, nor his eyes or clothes, but his arm. His left arm was thin and seemingly metallic down to his hand, where fingers were replaced by gigantic, blackish (but shimmering) daggers.

Was he some kind of demon or mutant from another dimension or world?

“Hiiiiii~!” the white-haired Manic grinned, waving his talons at the Prince of Thieves.

Aer cracked a small smile at the corner of his lips, even though this was more funny-odd than funny-haha. At that moment, the sounds of the guards surrounding the two of them filled their ears. They were only surrounded by four people, not counting the fat one who was now catching up. That tiny confrontation cost the prince some time and allowed the men to catch up.

Before any of them could do or say a thing, Manic spoke up first, addressing the fat fellow who just came in—red both from running and from anger.

“’Sup, Fatty McRed?” he grinned.

Steam seemed to come out of the man’s ears, whistling like a teapot when he screamed, “Kill them both!”

Aer readied himself for a fight, while his eyes darted around, searching out a route of escape. Behind him, Manic picked his nose before yawning.

It was a rare day of peace for the Dragons’ Favored. The city market she had aimlessly wandered into was filled with the scents of fresh produce, the local flora, dust, and pack animals. The contrasting smells mingled together to form a surprisingly pleasant sensual cacophony. With the sun shining out of a cloudless sky, the people bustling down the streets seemed friendlier than they might have been otherwise. Everywhere, shouts of price haggling shot back and forth between the peddlers and their potential buyers. No one appeared to notice the exotic elf standing in their midst, much less the Dragons that accompanied her.

Sileya, though, was content to remain as inconspicuous as possible. At least, until her stomach rumbled, alerting her to its lack of food. As she moved toward one of the nearby street vendors, she dug into the folds of her overcoat for a few coins, hoping she had the right kind of currency for this particular city.

“Excuse me,” she said politely, placing several coins on the makeshift wooden counter the vendor had set up. “What food do you have for sale?”

The vendor turned around and sent an offensive stench in her direction. She tried her hardest to restrain her hand from covering her nose. The bulbous man, clad in a white apron that was much too tight for him, faced her with a bored expression. “I’ve got it all sitting out over there.” He waved toward another counter where a pile of food was swiftly becoming a feast for flies. “Just pick what you want.”

Sileya could not suppress a grimace and replaced her coins in her pocket. “Ah...never mind. I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.”

As soon as the words had left her mouth, the cries of someone yelling, “Stop thief! Thief!” reached her ears. This was chased by exclamations of surprise from the surrounding people as a dark shape flitted in and out of view down the street. Several burly men followed in the shadow’s wake, and Sileya decided to trail behind them. Anything would be better than continuing to stare at that rotting pile of food.

It wasn’t long before the pursuit was over, for the shadow had stopped and was staring at another person who blocked his path. Sileya blinked. Is that...Manic?

“Kill them both!”

She was jolted out of her thoughts and immediately slid Drageziel from its scabbard, much to the shock of the onlookers who saw her. Before the men knew what had hit them, the flat of her broadsword dropped the leader. While they were dumbstruck for a few precious seconds, the elf made quick work of the other men, dropping them in a heap next to their leader. She knelt down to ensure they were merely unconscious and then stood again, turning around to smile in Clown’s direction.

“I see you’re still managing to get into trouble.”

As Clown stood gaping at the newcomer, Aer just stared a little wide-eyed from under his hood. Surely, part of his face was visible under the hood from the way the setting sun struck from that angle but she must not have noticed his staring or his surprise at this seemingly elegant, beautiful woman taking down the men easily with just the broad side of her sword. And from what Aer gathered... she wasn't just any beautiful woman with hair coloured like the shimmering sea that reflected the sun; this woman was an elf. And on top of that, she seemed to know this odd white-haired one.

"I see you’re still managing to get into trouble," she smiled at him.

"Shiny!" Clown responded, jumping up into the air in joy. He grinned and danced around her, seemingly mixing skipping and hopping in one as he moved around her, spinning around to face her each time he found himself looking away. "Silly-ahhhh~" he sang in a sing-song voice, "It's been a looooong time! Howareyou? Whatchadoinnow? Areyouokay?"

Aer looked at them both, and realized that this woman (whose name was probably something close to "Silly-ah") most likely had saved the both of them because she knew the white-haired one. The one with the talons only looked dangerous, but his actions depicted otherwise--he was wild and fun, and nice too. His intuition wasn't off as well; Aer thought that he immediately realized that the fat pursuer was bad and insulted him, while Aer only got off with a loud, but friendly greeting and wave.

"Milady," Aer bowed to the silver lady, "Thank you, very much." He smiled and raised his head, "If you would permit me, I'd...like to take you and your friend for a drink and perhaps something to eat--if you've no other appointment..."

He knocked his pocket gently, "Ah, but first... I have a small package that needs to be dropped off nearby... Would you like to come along or wait here...?"

Clown suddenly grew solemn, and his eyelids dropped and stayed halfway over his eyes. He put his hands together and bowed stiffly to the the beautiful elf.

"Ah, grrrrasshoppah," rolling his tongue on the 'r', he bowed again, and again, "you do what needs to be done, grrrrasshoppah." Which meant a simple "The decision is yours."

Sileya chuckled at Clown’s antics. That fact that she knew he was only playing around allowed her to return his gesture rather than reprimand him for his formality. She took the sides of her overcoat in hand and curtsied to Manic. In a flourishing tone, purposefully overdone, she replied, “Ah, thank you, good sir, for granting me permission to do as I please.”

She straightened and looked at the cloaked man. Like herself, he stood out among the drab peddlers and townsfolk that shuffled through the streets. Even the guards she had taken out a few moments before paled in comparison. Together, the two of them plus Clown looked like they could be from some traveling troupe. In fact, many of the people standing around gaping at the scene probably were thinking this was all an elaborate play.

Putting all kidding aside, she offered the man a polite smile and a nod of the head. She hazarded a mental guess that he was a member of society’s upper echelon, not only because of his attire but also due to the absence of glaringly noticeable grime. It puzzled her, then, why he would be chased through the streets by men declaring him a thief. Surely, stealing wasn’t a necessity for him.

Sileya’s stomach growled—rather loudly—again, and she slapped a hand to it, laughing nervously. “I could use a good meal, yes. How long will your errand take?” She suddenly remembered that he was a total stranger. “Oh, and my name is Sileya. Not Shiny or Silly-ah.” She gave Clown what was supposed to be a scolding look but which probably turned out to be more amused than anything else.

"Miss Sileya, it's a pleasure," he smiled and bowed to her, and for the first time, he was worried if he was being too uptight at the moment, and at the same time, he was worried if he was being uptight enough. One could never really tell. Just after he raised his head, he spoke once more, "My name is simply Prince," he smiled as his fingers curled into the cloth of the hood and pulled it down, leaving his head in full view--it was impolite to have a hood or hat on when addressing a lady.

"And as for the errand, I just have to give something to someone who lives nearby, that's all."

"Ah, grrrrasshoppaaahh," there was that rolling of the tongue again, but this time, Clown was addressing the young man in the cloak. As soon as he looked at Aer, he swung something gold around his talons.

"That pocket watch..." Aer's eyes opened wide as he felt his pocket, "how did you...?" At that moment, Clown let it fall from his hands, and an almost transparent, white string tugged it back up into his normal hand. "Yoink!"

"Ah, please, be careful...!" the prince almost leapt at him before Clown tossed it back suddenly, turning to move behind Sileya, holding on to her sides and peeking out from behind her. "I'd rather this shiny thing here~! Wouldn't you?!" He giggled, letting her go before dancing around her once more.

Aer blushed for a moment, taking the watch back and pocketing it. "The...man I'm supposed to see lives right around this corner," he motioned at it, flustered, before turning to lead the way toward the small shack. It stood out because it wasn't like the rest; it wasn't rich like the rest. It was an old shack made out of dried mud and had a roof made of layers upon layers of palm tree leaves.

"In here..." The door wasn't much, just a large plank of wood blocking the entrance. Without knocking or anything of the sort, the thief simply lifted the plank and put it to the side, leaning it against the wall before walking in. The whole thing was just one room with old cots in the corner and an old fireside stove and oven built completely out of mud. Laying down on one of the cots was an old woman, covered to her neck in a tattered sheet. Her wrinkled eyelids were closed, but her breaths were short and labored. There was an old man sitting in lotus position right in front of her, his body turned to her. His whole being seemed full of worry for his old wife.

"So bold to come into my house in broad daylight, thief?" the old man did not turn, but his quivering voice reached the prince's ears, "I have nothing in this house aside from my dear wife, what do you want from me...?"

Aer quickly moved to his side and produced the golden pocket watch and smiled as the man's eyes brightened up, becoming filled with life once more. "I want you to take care of yourself and your wife, that's all." Aer placed the watch in his wrinkled hands before standing up and turning to walk away, "And now, it's dinnertime."

OoC: Any and all powerplaying in this was done with permission. :3

IC:

Sileya stood silently, watching the eyes of the old man illuminate as he stared down at the golden pocket watch in his hands. The watch represented hope in the form of food and medicine for his wife. Prince brushed passed her, out of the hovel, but Sileya continued to look at the old man. His eyes lifted to follow Prince’s back out of the doorway, his mouth half-open with unvoiced gratitude. Sileya caught the man’s attention and said softly, “I’ll tell him you’re grateful.”

With that, she exited the shack and followed Prince back into the streets of the city proper. Her stomach was gnawing at her insides as she drew up alongside her new acquaintance. “That man in there told me tell you ‘thank you’.” She paused. Then her stomach broke the silence, and she slapped a hand to it again. “Ah...hehehe...you mentioned something about dinner, yes?”

He turned and smiled at her. “Of course, Miss Sileya. I know a good place. If you’ll follow me...”

Sileya glanced around. “Oh, where’s Clown?”

Gasps and shouts of surprise sounded somewhere in the crowd. The sea of people parted to reveal Clown cart-wheeling his way over to them. He came to his feet with a huge grin plastered on his face. “Manic is heeeeeere~!”

Sileya chuckled. “Alright, then. Lead the way, Prince.”

However, as they wound their way among the people, Clown suddenly exclaimed, “Preeeeeeeetty~!” Apparently, a couple of men were transporting a mirror framed in brilliant hues across the street, and it was catching the sun in a radiant glow. Clown was trailing behind one minute, and the next, he was bounding toward the mirror, intent on examining every inch of it. “Go towards the liiiight. Go towards the liiiiiiiight~”

Before Sileya could protest, he had vanished into the crowd. She stood in indecision, staring worriedly after him. “I hope he’ll be alright...”

“Why wouldn’t he be?” Prince said at her side.

Sileya glanced at him. “Oh, I just worry about him sometimes. Not many people seem to have a high tolerance for the way he acts.” She shook her head. “But yes, I’m sure he’ll be fine. And my stomach is eating me from the inside out, so...dinner?”

Prince nodded and laughed a little. “Yes, this way. We’re almost to the noble quarter. There’s a very nice restaurant there.”

“Nice and in the noble quarter? It must be expensive, then. I can help pay for some of it. ...I think.” She dug around in her pockets.

He laughed again. “No, I can take care of it, Milady.”

She glanced up at him. “Well, if you’re sure...”

"I'm sure," Aer replied, smiling. He opened the door for her, and bowed a little, "Ladies first." As they walked in, Aer took off his cloak, turning around to look at the entrance. He didn't realize it, but his mind had wandered onto the location and situation of the white-haired fellow. He seemed to be so carefree, but attracted to the right people and a lot of shiny things. The Prince chuckled softly as he pulled out a seat for Sileya before moving around to the other side.

He called for a waiter, just for the menu.

Clown was on the run now. Running after a carriage that lead out of town. Something shimmering in the evening sun had caught his attention, something running down the back of the large haystack from the inside.

"WAAAIT, WAAAAIT!" He waved his talons, but the driver seemed to notice them and whipped his horse harder. It whinnied and broke from a simple trot into a gallop. But when the driver turned around, he saw the man still behind him, keeping up easily.

"WAAAIT, Goddamnfuggit."

Clown leapt forward, sinking his talons into the haystack just before the man whipped the horse harder. It neighed in protest and began galloping faster down the rough road. The wheels hit a large hump and cause turbulence at the back, making the whole load, along with Clown, jerk roughly. The clump of hay that his talons held on to began to break away, and more of the shimmering liquid began to flow out. The hay began soaking it up and it began turning an odd colour.

But the carriage wasn't slowing down.

"SLOOW DOWN! You're driving on the wrong side of the road, azzzhuuuul!"

At that moment, the carriage hit an uneven bump, sending Clown and the large load flying off. In mid-air, the whole bale of hay began to break apart, and in the midst, a dead body, red and bleeding all over, landed hard on the ground next to Clown, sending the jester into a screaming frenzy, and even more so when he noticed the dead person's pointed ears.

He ran back to town screaming. "Elves are falling, The elves are falling! SILLYYYEEEAAAHHH!"


OoC: Not sure where this'll go x3 Just thought I should start something.

Sileya had taken exactly one bite of the side salad she had ordered when her ears twitched at the commotion outside the restaurant. "Hm?" Her fork containing the second bite was suspended halfway to her mouth. "I wonder what’s—"

"SHIIIIIIIIINNYYYY!! HELP! HELP, SHINY!"

Her fork clattered loudly onto her salad plate. Manic’s strident calls were unmistakable. Casting a brief, apologetic glance at Prince, she paused only long enough to hurriedly scarf down most of her steak entrée, chasing it with several deep gulps of ice water. Then she bolted to her feet and moved quickly for the door.

Once outside, she found Manic running in circles like a headless chicken. People stood nearby, gasping and pointing at the spectacle. Sileya intercepted him in mid-stride, and he almost took her to the ground in his panicked state. She managed to keep her footing and gripped him tightly.

"Manic, what’s the matter? Did someone hurt you?"

His mouth was agape, forming a large, perfect "o" shape, and his eyes were wide. "Elves, Shiny! Elves are bleeding and dead! Dead, dead, deader than a needle in a haystack! No, they were IN the haystack! But bigger than a needle! And they were bleeding and dead! Dead, dead, deader than a—"

Sileya put a hand to his mouth to quiet him. "Shhh…calm down, Manic. Do you remember where you found these dead elves? Can you take me to them?"

He nodded so vigorously Sileya thought his head just might fly off, and he grabbed her hand with his non-clawed one. "Shiny must follow Manic, so Manic can show Shiny! Manic will shooooow~!"

Despite Manic’s hard tug on her arm, Sileya was able to turn and find Prince walking toward them, concern in his eyes. "Is everything all right, Miss Sileya?"

"I’m not sure. Manic said he found some dead elves somewhere nearby. He’s going to take me to them."

Dead elves? Aer looked at the Manic curiously while the man tugged on Sileya's arm a little harder. Despite the small crowd, Aer and Manic weaved their way through the people with a concerned Sileya in tow. Some people followed, interested or curious of the concept of 'dead elves' and the like. There was already a crowd gathering a little way down the road, where Manic said the body was, and already, there were murmurs circling the air, and even more bodies on the ground, but they were just unconscious--Aer checked--perhaps fainted because of the sight.

"Looookiieeeeee!" Manic pushed through the crowd, lightly scratching and scraping some people along the way because they made him frown; they were just to stubborn to move aside a little, "MIND YOUR OWN BEESWAXES." As soon as they reached the body at the center of the circle, Manic turned away, attempting to shoo the onlookers off.

"Move along, move along. Nothing to see here, peep-ells. Go on! Shoo! Shooshooshooshoo!" he waved them off; his talons scaring most of them. The unnerved ones began to move away.

Aer looked at the torn body of the elf. It didn't seem to be some kind of... simple murder. The man was carved up, and his flesh was seared around the wounded; some still smoking. And it smelled...crispy.

"I... my dinner.." he took a step back, bringing his hand to his mouth. This wasn't the first time he'd seen death, or gruesome murder, but something about this just upset him badly. His stomach felt turned, and he felt thoroughly disturbed at the sight of the wounds all over the man's body.

"Miss Sileya... I've never seen wounds like this before..."

Everything else around her faded into silence and obscurity the moment she laid eyes on the elf lying at her feet. Heedless of Clown’s attempts to push the crowd away and Prince’s obvious revulsion at the sight, Sileya knelt down next to the body and touched a hesitating finger to the corpse’s bloody cheek.

“Faldurin...?” The inquiry was whispered, meant only for her ears. She was in a state of complete and utter disbelief. Though his face was mutilated, he was still recognizable to her. He had been the captain of her personal guardians, one of her closest and only friends during her life as a princess, while she had still lived in Valina. Her finger trailed over his cheek, and then the stench finally hit her in full force. She could not help it, and wrinkled her nose.

Prince’s words to her reached her far past the moment he had said them. “I have...long ago...” All the memories of the night she fled her home came rushing back to her in a torrent. Had something happened again? “Wounds like these made by...demons...”

A soft cry of pain drifted to her suddenly, and she jerked her head up, listening for its exact location. In moments, she was digging through a nearby clump of brush until she uncovered another elf, also bloodied and torn, but still clinging to life by a thread.

Sileya’s eyes widened. Ilmura had also numbered among Sileya’s contingent of guards. “...Mura,” she said, using her term of endearment for the woman. “What happened?”

Mura’s face whitened further as she stared up at Sileya. “...Princess? You’re...here? Have I...finally crossed into the realm of the dead?”

Sileya pulled Mura close to her, ignoring the blood that soaked into her clothes. “No. No, Mura, you’re not dead.” Yet. “I need you to tell me what happened to you and Faldurin. Is something wrong in Valina? Are my parents in danger?” She couldn’t help sending a barrage of questions at the unfortunate elf.

Mura didn’t respond for a moment, her head rolling limply against Sileya’s chest. Then her eyes trailed upward and caught a glimpse of Drageziel’s hilt. The wail that escaped her lips shook Sileya to her core. “That...! You have it...? He was looking for that! Faldurin and I...tried to flee for help... He sent demons after us...” Mura was convulsing by now—her death-throes, Sileya knew, hastened by the horrible recollection of the past few days. She was clawing at Sileya’s shoulder now, instinctively trying to reach the object of their doom, wanting to give it to whomever this “he” was who had the power to inflict such fear and death.

“Mura...this ‘he’ is in Valina right now? Are the people all right? Mura?!”

The dying elf, though, expelled a last, shuddering breath and went completely limp in Sileya’s arms. There were no concrete replies to her interrogation. All Sileya could do was sit there, frozen, with Mura dead in her arms and a slew of unanswered questions swimming in her head.

There was this dead, uneasy silence as all three looked at the dead elf in Sileya's arms. Clown stared more intently than the rest, so much so that it was like a thoughtful glare. The other two just stared a little blankly; the Prince wanted to ask no less than a barrage of questions to Sileya, but he knew now wasn't the time at all. Perhaps she had lost someone she knew from long ago... someone she left behind?

"Have I...finally crossed into the realm of the dead?"

"Is there going to be a funeral now?" Clown asked suddenly. His eyes were shining, as if with tears, "I know we're supposed to cry at funerals!" He immediately wiped his eyes, ready to burst out in tears at any moment, waiting for the signal.

Prince couldn't help smirk a little at this, but the little outburst gave him the courage to speak up. "We should at least bury the body, right..?"

"Yes, we should..." Sileya answered the question without lifting her eyes to meet his. Mura's limp form felt heavier in a more emotional way rather than a physical. Whatever had slain her and Faldurin must have truly been strong indeed. Both of them had, after all, been highly trained in order to protect her, their princess. And now, they were dead. Suddenly, her entire past was flooding back into her life whether she wanted it to or not.

She stood shakily, unwilling to let Ilmura drop from her arms to the ground. Not yet. The humans that had gathered were staring, probably unused to seeing anyone like her around their ordinary town. She noticed a man nearby, dressed in dirty, tattered clothes. He was gripping the handle of a shovel in his hands and turning his knuckles white.

"May I...borrow that for a moment?" She turned her watering eyes fully on the man.

Despite the way he still stared at her dumbstruck, he apparently possessed enough sympathy and understanding to relinquish his shovel to the mourning elf.

The next question out of her mouth was asked to no one in particular. "Is there somewhere quiet I can bury them? Perhaps there's a river somewhere...?" She looked around at the people with a hopeful expression.