The dawn filtering from the curtain marked five days - five days in and out of a dingy inn room, making do with the stale fare and drink in this husk of a civilization called Soubar. Still in bed, Red rested an arm over her eyes as she sighed, while the sounds of bustling and shouting started to drown out the silence of sleep. Mornings were always the worst part of the day: the passing lethargy that came after a night's rest had always invited things and faces better left in the recesses of her mind. The living conditions in this place certainly didn't help things.
Eventually, the lure of a new day won out. Elizaveta stood up and walked towards the seam of daylight while dressing in her usual garb. As she observed the passing strangers down the street, she couldn't help but think of the absurdity of her situation. This has been the longest she has stayed in one town, and to an extent, a place - it has been a month since she had deigned to stay along the Coast near Baldur's Gate, after years of restless travel. She decided long ago that her life will never be one of stability, or of attachment, and yet here she was dangerously hovering towards both.
The trust of a friend. A gamble of a stranger. Even the attempts at extortion of a mistake served to stir things she thought long discarded. The woman called Red stood there, feeling unease.
To Hide Without Hiding: "Red" Elizaveta's Journal
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
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Kayle Walker
- Posts: 93
- Joined: Sun Dec 27, 2020 1:41 pm
Re: To Hide Without Hiding: "Red" Elizaveta's Journal
"To hide in a forest, use a tree."
"To hide in the mountains, be a rock."
Eastern proverbs that the young Sembian came across a lifetime ago. It was the same mind as a hunter who used foliage to blend in the trees, or a rogue who donned black to disappear in the shadows; the lesson was patronizingly simple, that, were one to ask her, she wouldn't even recall how she knew them - it was such a passing, seemingly insignificant memory, yet one that endured to be her way of life.
The woman who called herself Red can't claim to be a hunter or a rogue. She does not have the inclination, nor the skills required to stalk unseen. What she did have, was an interest in people - a kind of detached fascination, not unlike watching ants crawl across their self-made hills. She liked reading people, poking at little cracks and seams to see how they're made... or broken.
And on the other hand, Soubar - a place of tents and refugees. It had a disreputable air, and in here hope was but a mugging away from being snatched; trust was a myth, prying eyes abound, and a semblance of peace was only maintained by oppressive hands. To hide here was to invite scrutiny and mistrust, and will only serve to isolate one further.
Fortunately, Red had no need nor intention to hide. She just had... to belong.
In a place with no future, people only have the present to look to. A passing game of chance, a watered-down drink, a dirty limerick passed among regulars - instead of attempting stave off attention, it was in sharing in the collective resignation of the people of Soubar that made one invisible - one gaunt face among many, soon to be forgotten. It was in allowing herself to be imprisoned in this town, that Red attempted to observe its jailors.
"To hide in the mountains, be a rock."
Eastern proverbs that the young Sembian came across a lifetime ago. It was the same mind as a hunter who used foliage to blend in the trees, or a rogue who donned black to disappear in the shadows; the lesson was patronizingly simple, that, were one to ask her, she wouldn't even recall how she knew them - it was such a passing, seemingly insignificant memory, yet one that endured to be her way of life.
The woman who called herself Red can't claim to be a hunter or a rogue. She does not have the inclination, nor the skills required to stalk unseen. What she did have, was an interest in people - a kind of detached fascination, not unlike watching ants crawl across their self-made hills. She liked reading people, poking at little cracks and seams to see how they're made... or broken.
And on the other hand, Soubar - a place of tents and refugees. It had a disreputable air, and in here hope was but a mugging away from being snatched; trust was a myth, prying eyes abound, and a semblance of peace was only maintained by oppressive hands. To hide here was to invite scrutiny and mistrust, and will only serve to isolate one further.
Fortunately, Red had no need nor intention to hide. She just had... to belong.
In a place with no future, people only have the present to look to. A passing game of chance, a watered-down drink, a dirty limerick passed among regulars - instead of attempting stave off attention, it was in sharing in the collective resignation of the people of Soubar that made one invisible - one gaunt face among many, soon to be forgotten. It was in allowing herself to be imprisoned in this town, that Red attempted to observe its jailors.