The Start of the Warpath - Part I
"Thirty bags, la?" Evangeline gave the black-cowled man standing beside her a toothless grin that failed to meet her whiskey colored eyes, and leaned her elbow upon the dilapidated kitchen counter.
The man sighed thoughtfully and looked out the grimy window. In the decayed garden sat a platinum blond girl, a chubby thing, with her fingers in the yellow grass and a curious expression.
"I shouldn't ask, but why are you so keen to be rid of her?" he drawled as his attention returned to the haggard women with whom he negotiated.
"They're all empty." She motioned her dirty hands around the room, indicating the broken cabinets. "I can't put food on the table for even myself, and I never wanted to be a mother in the first place. She's odd and difficult."
"How so?" The man prodded as he drummed his fingers upon the countertop.
"Sometimes she's lost in her own head," Evangeline explained carefully as she reached back to fiddle with her greasy ponytail. "And at other times, she's willful." The woman glanced out the window at her daughter who was holding something small up towards the midsummer sun.
"Could be a problem to break," the man noted curtly. "Twenty bags."
"Were you tortured with water?" the knight asked calmly.
Evangeline looked like she was about to protest the lower offer, but then nodded and flung her hands in the air. "Fine."
The man reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out an enchanted, self-writing quill along with a blank bank note. He flicked his wrist once before scrawling out the agreed upon payment plans and handed the note to Evangeline with his left hand. His right tucked the quill back where it came from, and then extended for a shake.
She closed her eyes, shook her head, and quickly snapped the note away from him.
"Think of your freedom," he said gently, right hand still held towards her for several more heartbeats until it became clear that she wasn't going to shake it. At that point, he motioned her towards the door. "Shall we?"
With a long breath inhaled, and then pushed out in a loud huff, Evangeline moved towards the door and swung it open. The man was right behind her.
She has a real family now; the one she wanted.
"Marietta," Evangeline chirped more shrilly than she meant to.
The young aasimar looked up from the slug that slowly crawled along her knuckles, and she got to her feet torpidly.
"This is Anton," Evangeline said with a jerk of her chin towards the man. "You're going to spend the afternoon with him. I have a few things to do, but I'll see you this evening."
The young aasimar did not see her mother's sorrowful expression while she assessed the man--black cowl, black cloak, tall, lanky, clean-shaven. A pair of almond shaped eyes of deep blue. A fleeting thought occurred to her that if twilight had a color, it would be in this man's eyes.
"Alright," she said serenely as she bent down to place the slug back on the ground.
I don't trust anybody, and look how far I've gotten.
"Wonderful," said Anton as he gestured the aasimar along with him by a cant of his head. She followed.
"Did you know that slugs live for up to six years?" she asked him, her legs moving quickly to keep up with his pace.
"I did not. That's so interesting."
"They can eat up to seven times their body weight in one day; that's why they're such pests in gardens," she babbled and wrinkled her nose. Right hand lifted to twine a lock of platinum blond hair around her fingers. "And they don't need other slugs to reproduce, they have male and female organs."
"Ah, we'll be going into that carriage there," he said as he pointed towards a black shire horse harnessed to an ornate carriage nearby. The driver nodded to him. "I'll get the door for you." Anton's right hand discreetly reached behind his back for a pair of manacles, not grabbing them quite yet.
"So, this will be an adventure?" The young aasimar looked at him with wide lavender eyes, inquisitive and hopeful.
"Something like that."
Sometimes I think I should have run.
* * * * * *
Let them rip up the treaty. I'll drown them in a river of blood and burn their farms. Death by starvation, death by smoke. Death comes quick, death comes slow.
I'll show them the monster they think I am.