I was no stranger to heartache.
Maybe that's why I found myself in Denocte, in the markets that held the most bustling life Novus had to offer. Sure, it wasn't my usual cup of tea, being surrounded by the drunkards, fools, and whores who found the outer-edges of the market home - but that wasn't why I found myself in the far corners of the bazaar that evening. No, over everything, I wanted to find them. Who are they, you might ask? Well, they may be the family I'd always been looking for. Though, I'd never rightly admit it, I'd always been looking for some excuse to fit in. It was hard, being a young, troubled orphan, with no place or option but to beg in the streets...or to give "favors" to those disgusting enough to ask a child for it. I wanted no part of a kingdom, nor did I want to pray to a "god" to help me...I didn't want to be treated like a servant or talked down to as if I was some sort of moron. No, those I sought out that night could promise me something better...or, at least I thought.
There was a certain level of allure to their secrecy, to the way no one knew exactly who was involved in their creation, but perhaps more intriguing, who could be part of their evolution. My hooves clipped the cobblestone, with no attempt to mask my arrival, I turned down the dark, foreboding alley on the edge of the market street, and stopped when I saw her eyes. Swirling cerulean and emerald, they reflect what little light reaches here. I knew this was where the Scarab lie, swift whispers spoke of the palace that lay here in the darkness. But I wanted more answers, I had questions - I was not going to approach it without any sort of ammunition.
"Manon," I said, looking to the peddler with eyes of steel. I was a soldier, I was no coward, but the way her stained-glass eyes bore into me, you could say in that moment I was one. "I've heard you're familiar with the White Scarab." I placed each word carefully, calculating them to receive a decent response. I go no closer, leaning against a brick wall. Cold white vapor exhaled from my nostrils as we stared daggers at each other. Tell me something, anything. I thought to myself, but said nothing, keeping my face stone cold. Manon could be the first link to a better life...if she knew something of the Scarab, they must've thought her worthy - or, they pitied her.
An orphan can smell another orphan from a mile away.
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this S U C K S because i've never written her before. but i can't wait for their conversation!!
