"Could I have a few days to think about this, Mother Nicole?" You ask, hesitantly.
[-] "Of course. I'd think you were a moron if you just jumped at the chance without thinking about it. But do remember this, Phoebe. I want to make -us- powerful, and I would do anything to help you out." She shrugs a shoulder, feigning disinterest, "I'd be giving you my name-- people might think we're related. Treated very well. Just a thought."
"You have until tomorrow night. The apprentices leave the next morning."
She rises, calling to Brother John down the hall to guide you to the apprentice chambers. He hurries back and silently leads you into the room. It's filled with cots huddled against the chilly rain by the fire. A few apprentices sit and talk with one another. They go quiet when they see you, but begin talking again when you're assigned a cot. You fall into it gratefully, covering yourself with the blanket. You soon drift off to a comfortable sleep.
[1/1d3]
--
Fire sprouts itself from your back, into wild wings.
You bow your head to SEED, a great orb of metal and twining trees.
Something presses into your hand. A sharp, cruel dagger behind your back. But there's another — a knife in your side, pressing you forward.
SEED approaches you. And you stab at it.
--
"FAILURE." A voice growls. It rips your wings off, but you feel no pain — only the worse sense of loss imaginable. You feel empty. Ashamed. What would he say? Think? Do? Why isn't
he here anymore? Weren't you following the plan faithfully? You followed
orders, didn't they see that?
--
You open your eyes as someone jostles your cot.
"Wake up," A brown young man of fourteen or so grumbles, "Breakfast time."
His name is Eric; you come to learn over a breakfast of [grainmeal], raisins, and [apples]. He's a farmer's child, and, after receiving a strong cup of tea, tells you much about his life. You listen to the distraction, keeping him at a metaphorical arm's length when the subject turns to your childhood. You finish your meal, grace him with a smile that sets his face burning red, and leave the church, back out into the open market that surrounds the well. Everything is wet from last night's rain.
The stalls begin to open, hawkers calling their wares to the early morning workers trudging towards the factory. Brother John hurries past you without greeting, going the same direction, and carrying a toolbox.
The doors to the public house are swung open, and patrons begin to spill out into the street, a few still drunk from the night before.
What now?
You don't remember who you are.
You are satiated.
Your side aches. Blood stains your bandages.
Over Body:
A charred black, brown, armored duster. Torso:
An oversized, grey shirt. (hidden)
Lower Body:
Faded blue scratchy, canvas pants.(hidden)
Feet:
Woolen socks(hidden)
Feet:
A pair of leather boots.
Side: A wrapping of bloody bandages.(hidden)
In Belt: A burned knife.
Poll
0 (0%)
Author
Topic: McCreary's Planet -- (FINISHED) (Read 257764 times)