Maeve and Gideon- who had surprisingly neat handwriting for brutes- became occupied with making recruitment flyers. The idea was to create them in advance, leaving the meeting time and place blank for now. The young ruler would have had to write a very compelling message to convince anyone to step back into the streets of that fortified oceanside city.
It was a shame. Watervein was an irrefutably attractive location. More beautiful than any vacation destination on Earth. If not for the armed Elven soldiers, Vin would spend his days underneath the fair sun skating alongside the sparkling green waterways.
He briefly wondered how human communities were developing in comparison. Had his father built some grand, furnished cabin for their family, or were they all squeezed into a ragged cloth tent using hay as cover? Who knew- and he'd rather not have to continue to speculate, so he brushed aside the distracting thoughts and set to work.
Tristen would need their only skateboard to continue improving, so Vin intended to construct another. He moved over to one of the couches pushed against the wall, closed his eyes, and entered his mind. That blank black space began to fill with shapes and colors, recreating memories of him at the desk of his punk room on Earth.
Vin spent at least an hour in those lucid memories, revisiting his old ride's structures and components. Buying and assembling parts was easy; building a skateboard from scratch with household scraps was another monster altogether. But Vin didn’t doubt himself, experience would pave the way.
After recalling all the necessary steps, he began gathering the raw materials. First, he tore apart a wooden nightstand and used the Shape spell to mold it into the board's deck/base. Next, Vin raided the kitchen area and fashioned metal containers into the trucks and other parts holding the wheels. He created the screws from silver cutlery and made use of the Rotate spell to tighten them into place.
It was hard to miss how absorbed he was in the project. At some point, Tristen stopped training to ask what he was working on. Vin's hands never stopped moving, but he managed to explain his plan to build a second board. The shorter Ravenour seemed curious and asked if he could watch, to which Vin nodded. Antsy observed for a few minutes, idly tugging at his messy, light-pink hair, but before long, he yawned and wandered back to skating.
Gideon, who Vin believed also had an interest in craftsmanship, occasionally looked up from his writing to watch him labor as well. Knowing the horned man, he probably downplayed Vin's feats, thinking the human was only competent in anything he did because of magic. However, given the proper tools, Vin could have done the same blindfolded.
He had made steady progress with the construction until he hit a snag when sourcing polyurethane, the durable plastic used for wheels. The chances of finding something that specific in an ordinary Elven home were slim. Skateboard wheels were built to handle high-impact tricks and collisions, but given that he didn't plan on skating like a lunatic, he could compromise with a suitable alternative.
Vin adjusted his focus, shifting the design from a skateboard to a longboard. The concept was similar, but the longer frame offered greater stability and was tailored for faster, smoother rides rather than flashy, off-the-ground tricks. He workshoped the wheels with this transition, crafting them from rounded wooden pieces. He dismantled an unused leather shoe and repurposed the material into a protective covering for the wheels to enhance durability and absorb shock. It wouldn't glide like a masterpiece, but would get the job done.
Since he'd be walking with Jazzy most of the time, Vin added a cut-out handle. This was a slim carving near the board's edge the size of a suitcase handle he could use to carry it. After completing this, he held up the wheeled tool and admired his work. It was about as long as a guitar and spacious enough in width to fit two people, albeit it'd be uncomfortable.
Vin tilted his head at the longboard and exhaled slowly. The tension in his shoulders eased as he ran a hand over its smooth wooden surface. For a fleeting moment, he let himself forget his dire circumstances. The satisfaction of completing a familiar task brought rare, delicate comfort, like snowflakes dancing through the fire of his usually molten veins.
This experience front-loaded a key memory of when he had to restore a nearly destroyed skateboard.
'It's impossible to forget,' he thought, a trim of humor in his eyes as he laid the longboard down and stood on top. He adjusted his weight on different ends of the deck, sampling its symmetry and getting accustomed to its feel.
'It was right after my tenth birthday. It was the day I was meant to impress Dad with a new trick but most of the contestants for the race resigned after seeing me. The host cancelled the competition, and didn't invite me to future events because I was apprently ruining their agenda.' It was a depressing memory at first, but so much more happened due to this one unfortunate thing.
He remembered being dejected after the news of the cancellation. While he moped around the venue, a young man whose face was hidden by a stylish baseball cap approached him and slipped him a paper before disappearing.
It was a simple note with an image, but one that changed everything.
Everyone knew of X-sports. It was a respectable televised event filled with sponsors and rules to ensure the esteem of the corporations and the athletes. It was Vin's dream to top those charts like his father. However, that couldn't happen until he graduated, and at the time, all the contenders in his age bracelet were awful. So, he immediately accepted when he read that secret note, which functioned as an invitation to something more- off the grid.
Vin snuck out of his house at sundown and followed the address on the sheet to an abandoned gas station down a dark, unpopulated street. The full moon and atmosphere of that dark night were threatening. It was also grossly humid, so much so that he was already sweating when he anxiously knocked on the steel door leading into a dubious building. It looked like no one was inside because of the blacked-out windows, but he could hear and feel the loud bass of the music booming within the structure.
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Knocking was pointless, so he pounded on the door the second time. He became nervous, clenching his board and involuntarily deepening his characteristic scowl. It didn't matter that his heart was galloping with angst, telling him to run. He fought the shiver in his hand and stood tall.
A short wait later, the door was swung open, and roaring music assailed him. The doorkeeper, a young woman heavily dressed in mascara, looked straight out in annoyance but didn't see anyone. At first, she didn't notice anyone, but Vin made his presence known with a sharp cough. Her gaze dropped, and she found him glaring up at her with an expression of thinly veiled disdain.
Vin gave her the invitation, featuring a picture of their gang's signature logo: a horned owl with red devil horns. The woman in her twenties knew what it meant, yet she laughed and slammed the door in his face.
Vin stood there silently for a while... He was an objective guy. Tried not to cause trouble unnecessarily.
Nonetheless, he was short-tempered. And after a crappy day, he wasn't in the business of having these- lowlives- look down on him because of age or appearance. He was better than everyone in there; he didn't need to meet the members of this underground gang called the Devil Owls to tell; he just knew.
Rage filled him, and he took his skateboard by the rear and smashed the blacked-out window, letting strobing lights and sound escape. Thirty of those lowly thugs who called themselves a skate gang stormed out of the building and surrounded the young boy who was almost half their size. They yelled and pushed him around, but Vin didn't lower himself or apologize. Instead, he swung his board at one of the stranger's legs, making them groan, then yelling, "Cowards! You're so tough, then challenge me!"
The baseball-capped man who handed Vin the invitation had simply observed until now but called off the persecution. Nothing was funny, but he burst into laughter, falling to the floor and rolling. This continued for an aggravating minute before he collected himself, stood, and gleefully suggested they all hit the streets. At the time, Vin didn't know what that meant and witlessly followed them toward the still-active downtown.
He waited for the terms of their race; however, that mysterious man laughed and asked, "What race?"
The stranger eyed the night sky as if the stars would spell his fortune. Moments later, he lowered his head and wandered over to the glass plane of an open pizzeria. He looked inside, waved to the owner, and tipped his hat respectfully before reaching into his back pocket. This deviant man withdrew a plainly used spray can and swiftly branded the window with the image of a simplistic horned owl.
It was still only about nine in the evening, so numerous pedestrians also saw this and gasped. The shop owner stormed outside with his employees, but the gang was already skating away at furious speeds. Vin's chest was a mess, breathing recklessly and moving without his usual mastery.
Terrified he'd be spotted and reported to authorities, he pulled his hood over his face and snapped his burning gaze at the man leading them. They laughed, high-fived the other crew members, and shared jokes as if they hadn't just broken a law.
For some reason, despite Vin's fear of being arrested and having to apologize to his honest parents, he didn't leave their formation. He just followed. Carried by the night's dangerous allure.
While skating away from the crime scene, the woman who previously shut the door in his face rolled up next to him, scanned his startled expression, and chuckled, questioning, "Exactly who were you calling a coward earlier? Hmm?"
The capped man didn't inspect Vin's cracking demeanor; he just tossed him a full spray can and explained, "Whoever gets the most tags before the end of the night wins."
Vin's eyes widened at him. This person seemed like a simple hooligan, but watching them, he could tell they were a fantastic skater. They accelerated like an engine had been built into their ride and effortlessly executed maneuvers that even he occasionally stumbled on. Vin never admitted it aloud, but they were better. Much better.
A lot went into Vin's mind before doing it, but he committed his first crime that night. There was no time to think; his body just acted, and he graffitied the wall of a closed library. The first one hurt; he knew his parents would be disappointed if they found out... However, it got easier as he continued, tagging more structures with his original insignia. A large "V" with a king's crown above it.
The competition went on for hours. There were no rules; however, Vin did find out the hard way that the other delinquents hated it when another person operated in the same area.
Local authorities caught up to the thirty delinquents vandalizing structures later in the night. Vin and another ruffian were darting down the sidewalk on their skateboards without saying a word to each other. In retaliation for Vin tagging in the same territory, the man knocked over a trash can in his path.
The act barely phased Vin. He popped his board up, flicked it twice on its axle in a smooth display of superiority, and effortlessly landed over the mess with a smug grin.
Seeing what could only be described as a child prodigy evading his surprise, the other skater abruptly decelerated, cutting off Vin's path. The sudden maneuver forced a decision: plow into a crowd of startled pedestrians or veer off the walkway entirely. With no intention of injuring anyone, Vin turned sharply into the road.
At his speed, he had no time to adjust, and he was forced to bail off his board to avoid colliding with a vehicle. He hit the ground hard, the impact jarring as he landed on his back. Moments later, the car crushed his skateboard beneath its wheels, splintering his once-prized tool into jagged shards.
With authorities close behind, he quickly gathered the pieces of his ride and ran off into the refuge of the city's nightlife.
It took longer to get home without it, but he eventually snuck into his room. He was idle for a while, his blood partying with reluctant thrill. He contemplated tossing the skateboard away, but he used repairing it as an excuse to calm down and soak in what he had done.
At first, he was sure he would never return. Yet, after several disheartening public events, he found himself in the clutches of the underground once again. And again and again, until he was a regular member. The man with the baseball cap took him under his wing and taught him how to win a competition without bounds or rules. Knocking over obstacles, yanking skateboard from beneath your prey's foot, pulling down their pants, as long as you won, nothing was off the table.
And so, he grew as a skater, eventually bringing his dirty play into public races to entertain himself.
Vin woke up from this unsavory yet fond recollection, picked up the longboard he made, and turned it to the backside. He channeled the Marking spell on his finger, allowing him to leave a permanent, purple glowing mark on whatever he willed. He carefully drew a large "V" underneath a king's crown as a reminder of when he challenged unfamiliar, scary circumstances. He was triumphant back then, and by the same right, this Dimension could not stop him; it would only serve as another stepping stone to achieving true freedom.