Puffy white clouds slid slowly across a deep blue sky that evening had just started darkening. A light breeze played in the trees, rustling the leaves. The breeze made the heat of the day feel great.
A few men had gathered to load a neighbor's wagon. A colorful mob of kids streaked past, their shrieks and giggling drowning out all other sound. Small groups of people chatted here and there. Hm. Even Arla got out. I don’t see my landlady all that much. She glanced my way and scurried off. Ah well, the cool of the evening just starting to roll in and with it my watch patrol was starting.
A familiar voice called out a cheerful “Hey Baz!” Mowris jogged toward me waving, her watch horn swinging at her side though she carried no weapon. At her approach I arched an eyebrow in question. She flicked her hair back with one hand dramatically “I have decided to grace you with my company.” She said regally. The regal image dissolving in a fit of giggles. She knows she looked good but isn’t hung up on it. That’s one of the things I like about her.
Outside of the cities tolerance for magic is pretty low. Small towns and villages don’t usually have the ability to train them and untrained mages are dangerous. Here in Silveren the magically gifted are fairly lucky. When any magical ability is displayed, they ended up “going to visit relatives”. Code for being sent to the city to train. The village even has a fund put together to help those that may need training.
Many places, due to superstition, the inability to pay for training or any of a number of other reasons the tolerance is much less. Those displaying magical ability tend not to survive displaying any ability. Mowris had her time “visiting relatives” and decided to leave the big city and to return to Silveren and join the watch. She joined a few months before I was forced to. Our own celebrated, home-grown mage.
She shook her head, brows drawing together in anger “You shouldn’t have to do your patrols on your own. None of the rest of us do. We all go out in pairs.” I shrugged. “I am the odd man out. There are usually only six in the watch. Though I won’t complain if it means you volunteer to keep me company.” I teased, grinning at her. “You just get treated differently because the mayor added you to the team after the trials.” She said, looking irritated. She glanced up a guilty, horrified look on her face “Not that I’m saying you couldn’t do the trials, I mean, you would’ve aced them of course.” She finished with a shrug of her shoulders and a careless grin. “It’s just that others look down on you and use that as an excuse.” She finished, kicking at a rock in her path and missing it entirely. She just walked on as though nothing had happened.
“I dunno.” I said, smirking wryly “I could’ve used my ‘dark halfer magics’ to make the mayor put me on the team.” I bent my fingers and wiggled them, mock casting a spell. We both laughed. Another member of the watch had hinted at just such an event. “Bran can be so stupid sometimes.” She said still giggling.
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“Yea. People see the grey skin, the pointed ears and in their head suddenly it becomes us against them and I get relegated to ‘them’. They usually come around though. Bran, he has some real racial hangups. And his reaction to mixed race makes his normal racial hang ups seem mild.” She nodded wryly, agreeing with me. “You don’t get much more obvious a mix.” I said gesturing to my bare arm.
She peered at my arm absently muttering to herself “In all my time in Dolnon and all her colorful markets I’ve never seen another with your skin tone.” She glanced up and grimaced. “Sorry, that was rude.” I shrugged. “It was an observation. An observation that pointed out how different I am and underscored that I may be unique.” The response was supposed to be a light jibe to let her know she had crossed a line but that I was fine with it. Instead it came off with a bitterness even I was surprised to hear. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” she said sulkily but she didn’t run off like I thought she might.
Sighing guiltily, frustrated with myself I tried to break the awkwardness between us “Technically I’m not a ‘halfer’. My parents were both elves. So I am fully an elf. My parents were very different though. My dad came from the woods his people got their name from.” Her sniffle was followed by scuffing the ground with a step, probably meant to disguise the sniffle but didn’t look at me. “His people were hunters, in tune with nature, Ahnarhi elves. People label them dark for their nearly black skin tone. They also call them nature, sun or,” I added sarcastically “one of my favorites, beast elves.”.
Mowris curiosity got the better of her and she peered up at me as we walked. “My mother was from the caves. Her people, the Kodef elves, believed death a release from the tortures of living. If what she told me was right and I have no reason to doubt her, they had worked out many creative ways to make others view death in the same way. They believe living itself to be a perversion of the natural order.” I had her full attention now. “People label them bone or shade elves due to their parchment white skin or sometimes called them death or blood elves for very different reasons. This unlikely and peculiar ancestry left me not with a tan or swarthy complexion but gray. Like a stone. People stare. They try to figure it out usually while crossing the road away from me to stay safe.” I said, oddly proud of the detachment I heard in my voice. No anger or bitterness to drive her away.
“I would never do that to you.” She intoned like an oath as she reached up and patted my shoulder before dropping her hand. “People are stupid.” she muttered, managing to actually kick a rock this time.
Out here the people have gotten used to me although every so often someone does something that makes me wish I was the monster they imagined me to be. We are a frontier village. We have Dwarves, Elves, and our grocer is even an Orc. Even here I get stares. Heck, my landlady was supposed to have some devil blood. I mean, I’ve always heard she’s nice but I’ve seen no evidence of that myself. I’m not saying she’s mean. I just almost never see her. Many of these are people who have pasts they’ve run from and are trying to build new futures.
Nowhere is that more evident than the poor quarter. Many arrive here with only what they are carrying as possessions. Here there aren’t questions and no one wants to chase someone this far away from civilization. I walked through the poor quarter feeling content with my adopted home.