"Waybreaker"
Veiled Sky
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Illustria
March 19th, 11,901 AC
9:57AM
Rolling hills, dotted with trees. A vast expanse was the great green ocean with its growth of oak and schools of sheep. In the spring air there was a cooling wind. The South Illustrian countryside was waking to a morning light. The blinding rays were cast upon the river of rail, snaking around the divots and bluffs. Smoke was filling the air. A train chugged along, steel and stout with tall black towers and shining wheels.
The inside was packed with passengers, fitted with suits, and formal attire.
"What's a cute girl like you doing alone?" Two men stood up in the train car, holding onto the bars. In contrast to the other passengers, they wore loose shirts and baggy pants. They had jewelry all over. Necklaces, earrings, septums. But the woman sitting just before them paid no attention to those things. Rather, she stared wide-eyed at the matching gold chains hung around both of their necks. They were made from metal that was far too thick. The ornament at the end was a large gold coin, engraved with an image of a crow. Its design was sharp. A scratchy depiction of a bird with a heavy focus on its right eye.
After some staring, she moved her wide eyes to face the two before her. She had deep, crimson hair done up into a regal, curly bun, and she wore lots of jewelry. She had on multiple chain bracelets, plated necklaces, and in both ears was a single ruby earring. Though, even with all her flair, she seemed quite young.
The men ogled the high-class woman, pressing up into her personal space. She tried to ignore them, but they kept getting closer despite her obvious disinterest. To make matters worse, it appeared that all the people surrounding her were choosing to ignore the situation unfolding before them. Getting confident now, one of the standing men bent down grabbed at the girl's legs, feeling around her knees.
"C'mon, you're from Durham right?" The one who wasn't touching her asked. "We're with 'The Market', surely you know what that means, right?"
The one who already had his hands on the girl began to feel around. His fingers glided from her slender knees and further up until he was gripping her thighs from under her short red dress. Feeling helpless, the girl couldn't do anything but shake her head.
The actions of the standing men were quite unbecoming of their environment. The train car was actually quite lavish.
There was a detailed, brown wallpaper covering most of the walls, adorned with patterns of crowns and playing cards. The seats of the train were lined with an expensive red fabric, and the actual chair structure was carved out of a cured, velvet wood. Despite this, and the well put-together appearance of most of the passengers, everyone seemed to ignore the situation. They all turned a blind eye to the girl, pretending not to see.
Except for one boy in particular who stared at the men. He was the one sitting directly to the girl's left, and he wasn't dressed quite the same as the rest of the formal passengers. He wore a sort-of white athletic coat. Its eastern appearance clashed against the rows and rows of men in western attire and suits. Underneath the coat was a thin black top, the kind that was form fitting and easy to move in. His pants on the other hand were quite baggy. They were the same color as his coat, white, but they had a yellow drawstring that clashed against the rest of the outfit. His skin was light brown, and most of the other passengers were quite pale, so he also looked foreign in that regard.
His appearance and his blatant staring garnered the attention of the two men, who refocused their harassment from the girl, to him.
"What's with the look?" The man who had just taken his hands off the girl asked. "You got a problem with what's going on?"
Even after the pressure, the brown skinned boy said nothing. He merely kept staring forwards, with his strange and tired eyes. Feeling challenged, this prompted the touchy one to get up closer in his face.
"Do you need me to say it slowly? Youuu… Gooot… Aaa… Prooo… Bleeem?" He asked again, so close now that he spit a little saliva onto the brown-skinned boy's nose.
But the boy seemed unfazed by it all. Not even the spit getting on his skin could make him twitch. He didn't even stop to wipe it off. He just kept observing, quietly. Growing confused, the thug started to look for anything he could harass the boy about. He needed to get a rise out of him otherwise he'd just look stupid. He scanned the boy for something he could get him on. He looked down, then up. At first he noticed his strange clothes, then his darker skin, but he thought both of those would be too low a blow, so he looked up at his hair. It was a thick set of white strands, flowing off in every direction. Even in foreign lands, something like white hair wasn't common.
The hooligan gripped the boy by his hair, pulling his head up a little. "What's with this white hair of yours anyways?"
But even physical aggression could not move the boy. His face didn't even show any pain as his scalp was pulled upon. He simply continued to stare into the thug's eyes with an entirely neutral expression.
Surprisingly, the bully gave up. He just let go of the boy's hair and shrugged the whole thing off. He decided his attention was better spent focused on the girl after all. So, he turned back around, facing the girl and giving her an impatient smile. The kind of expression you definitely wouldn't want pressed up into your personal space. It was a threat in itself. The smile was a message telling the woman that she was not safe, and the both of them knew why.
Out of options, the girl suddenly dove at the brown-skinned boy sitting to her left. She clung onto him with her arms wrapped around his neck.
His expression still did not change.
"Tell them to leave me alone, honey!" The girl yelled.
The boy was taken aback by the girl's actions, although it did not show on his face. He tried his hardest to read the room. "You shouldn't get involved with me…" He ended up muttering.
Both thugs stopped to think for a moment. They even turned to look at each other, and stared into one another's eyes. Their cheeks suddenly blew up like pufferfish and they erupted into laughter.
"Is this guy serious!?" One cried.
"We shouldn't get involved with him!" The other mocked.
"I was confused how a girl like you could be out alone," the touchy man said, getting up closer into the girl's face. "But what are you doing with a guy like this? We're with 'The Market', remember? We can make your life exciting."
He touched the woman's face with his right palm. His warm and sweaty hands rubbed up and down against her soft cheek. She recoiled back, falling deeper into the white-haired boy.
He just kept watching.
"What's the matter?" The thug standing behind suddenly interjected. "You gonna' stand-up for your girl, punk?"
The comment did not garner a rise from the foreign boy, but the hooligans didn't care. After not getting a response their attention immediately bounced back to the girl. "C'mon, hurry and get away from this guy," the guy touching her cheek pressed. "With us you could live the high life. Dirty money, shiny jewelry, some everyday excitement…."
The girl said nothing in response, she merely closed her eyes, turned her face, and avoided meeting their gaze. If it meant she'd have to see their faces, she’d rather not see at all. So, she kept her vision sealed, ignoring the two and the entire outside world around them.
"Dammit, Greyson." The one in the back said. "I'm starting to think this girl just ain't too smart."
"Y'know what, I think you're right," The other man sighed.
The closer of the men began to repeatedly slap his palm lightly against the woman’s cheek. It started with a series of light taps, barely a sound was made. Slowly though, he added force, hitting her against the face harder and harder each time.
"What are you-?" She struggled to speak through her surprise.
Tap, tap, tap, he was slowly building pressure. Every couple blows the pain would start to hit a little harder-Whack, whack, WHACK, the blows cranked up in intensity until it began to really hurt. "I think she needs to be educated a little, eh?"
The man continued with the assault. Hitting the girl with only a bit of force repeatedly until her cheek grew red. Still facing away with her eyes closed, she started to tear up. The foreign boy, so close to her now, overheard her little sniffles and muffled whines she tried to conceal as she was beaten. His eyebrows began to furl.
"You should really stop that." Suddenly, the brown-skinned boy re-entered the confrontation. His expression had now changed from strangely neutral, to a focused stare. "I don't want to get involved…"
There was a strange silver necklace around the boy's neck. In contrast to the thick chains around the thugs' neck, his jewelry was quite thin, subtle. At the end of the necklace was a small cloud emblem. It was cartoonish in design, consisting of three solid masses, drawn each as their own spiral. A small swirl, a medium sized one, and a large one, three silver circles making up the whole silver cloud.
The boy reached up to grab that emblem. He gripped it within his right hand. Then, he closed his eyes and kept it locked firmly within his palm. As he flexed his muscles, something began to happen around him. A strange white aura overtook him. He kept his calm expression, and the pressure in the room started to rise. The thugs found it hard to stand. They stumbled, wobbling back and forth as they tried to keep their balance. This went on for a few seconds, the pressure only growing and gaining in intensity. He kept up the silent assault for just a moment longer, until, at last, the boy removed his hand from his necklace and let it fall back against his chest.
The pressure in the train car returned to normal, and the men regained their composure.
"What is this kid's problem?" The touchy one removed his hands from the floor and pointed at the brown-skinned boy. "Hey, remember our faces, kid!"
"Where ya' headed!?" The other stressed. "Durham, with the lass!?"
"Yeah.”
"Hah, definitely remember our faces, then!" The closer one remarked. "The both of you have yet to receive any consequences!"
"C'mon let's go look for someone who's got more brains than this woman." The one still holding onto the train bars concluded.
"The Market doesn't forget faces." The other said, rising up from his squat to fall back to his partner. “You better remember ours.”
The pair stormed off, but the lady kept her face pressed into the boy's arm. She was shaking. Her makeup had now run down her face from her tears. She kept her eyes shut tight.
"Are they gone yet?" She asked, quivering.
"Yes, you can raise your head."
The young lady pulled away. She sat up and dabbed her face with a handkerchief that she pulled from her purse, trying to sop up the run off mascara. "I'm sorry to involve you in that." She said with a tinge of post-crying nasal congestion blocking up her voice.
"I don't mind."
"No, no. It's still wrong for me to get a stranger involved in my business like that. Especially such violent business. I can't even imagine how shocked you must've been, being dragged into that situation..." She sighed. "But, seriously though, what was up with your reaction?"
"Huh?"
"You acted so awkward and icky! You can man up a little!” The lady giggled. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t think you’re cringeworthy!"
"Huh?"
Her sudden change in attitude sent the boy for a loop. He watched her kick her feet back and forth in laughter, trying to understand what was so funny.
"You couldn't possibly scare people away with lines like 'I don’t wanna get involved!'" She fell back from laughter. "Ooh, ooh and… ahem 'You shouldn't get involved with me.' Ahaha!"
"I was just telling them the truth."
"Where's your sense of self," she gave him a light punch to the shoulder. "Don't take everything so seriously. I can tell that you're a good person deep down, really."
The boy ducked away from her gaze. "You don’t know anything.”
"Shut up with the corny stuff!" The woman objected. "You said you were going to Durham too, right?"
"Uh, yeah."
"That's my hometown, the greatest commercial district in all of Illustria! Though, I'm sure you knew that already if you're going there."
The boy nodded. "There's something specific I'm looking for."
Her ears perked up, “Like what?" She asked.
"I can't tell you."
"You can't tell me?" The lady whined. "Why not!?"
The boy stared at the woman for a moment. She was quite the character. Especially compared to him, who was so dry and plain. She glowed, and she had a charisma about her. The boy observed her childish, pouting face, but also the remnants of the mascara still on her cheeks from her earlier sobbing.
"T- this way that you're acting…" He struggled to say. "Could it be that you still feel awkward and you're overcompensating?"
There was a short pause.
"Woah, you're so punchable all of a sudden!" The woman blinked.
"I apologize," the foreigner dramatically dropped his face into his hands. "I'm not very good at communicating. I just wanted you to know that you don't have to make yourself uncomfortable for me."
"Woah, you're so huggable all of a sudden! Are you going to be okay? Do you get dark thoughts? Have you been thinking about killing yourself?"
"No…" He lifted up from his hands, his face instantly regressing back to a neutral expression. "Suicide isn't very productive."
The girl's face scrunched into an impatient smile, similar to the touchy guy's from earlier. "Nope, I definitely want to punch you!"
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CHAPTER ONE:
Wanderer
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The train came to a stop within the station. It hissed with the sound of escaping air before a whistle sounded, and the doors opened to let everyone off.
"Welcome to Durham, the city of commerce and prosperity!" The girl proclaimed as the two stepped out from the train.
"Oh, we're sticking together?" The boy looked around, confused.
The train station they had stepped into was nothing short of grand. Somewhere along the way, the train had exited out from the Illustrian countryside, and into the thick of the city. People stood everywhere, packing and leaving the train. The crowds moved like the ocean, coming and going in waves. The sounds of conversation filled the air, echoing alongside the clacking of dress shoes. Most of those in the crowd wore nice leather boots, which fit well with their regal attire.
Their clothing suited their environment quite well. The train platform led on, opening up to a station lined in red carpets. The walls were made of a grand stone, separated out into enormous bricks, the kind that scream class. Many, large decorative columns rose up high into the air. They were constructed from marble as well, packed dense and cut large so that they may hold up the tall ceiling. The building rose up many many stories, a height not often reached in this age of construction. Though, most of that height was dedicated to the oversized roof. At its height it held many red-colored glass panes, allowing for the light of the day to pour in. It had rafters built of grand arches, lined in metal, and with chandeliers that hung down over the hall aside draped banners.
The woman looked right in her element here. She had a faint smile as she looked up to meet the boy's gaze. "Why not stick together? you're doing some shopping too right? Ooh, I forgot to ask your name."
"It's Dust."
"Dust? Isn't that a bit plain? Hmm, or maybe it isn't exactly plain. Maybe a bit blunt?"
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Whatever it is, it's my name."
"Well, aren't you corny." She brought her hands up to her face. "Anyways, I'm Rosè." She said as her fingers brushed a small red curl out to the side of her forehead."Take care of me, okay?" The woman reached out her right hand for a shake.
"Huh? Why are you acting like this?" Dust asked. “We’ve only just met.”
Despite his aversion, Rosè suddenly pushed herself against the boy. Throwing herself unto him, she enclosed her body around his left arm seductively. He turned to look at her with minimal surprise on his face. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this."
"C'mon it'll be okay, just me and you out on the market." She smiled big and wide. "C'mon, I happen to be sitting on a lot of money right now and I wanna buy some clothes!"
"Wha-?" Dust tried to decline, but before he could formulate a sentence the girl was already dragging him along, pulling him out into the crowds. Hand in hand, the two ran along towards the front doors and out into the open market streets.
The commercial district truly was a once in a lifetime spectacle. There were tens of thousands of people, everywhere the eye could see. Mostly formal men in suits, but also women, and children just exploring the market place. Large stalls with fancy advertising were set up around the plaza, everything in one big circle. On the other side of the stalls were three long streets, each with their own unique and bustling storefronts along their entirety. The shops went up multiple floors, and with newer age stairs, constructed from recently made ironworking techniques, running up to each, it made putting shops on the third story of a building no problem to reach for ordinary citizens. For the first time Dust was seeing commerce done above the ground.
He couldn't help but stare.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" Rosè asked, noticing the boy's surprise.
"It's just… I'm not used to being near so many people. I thought that train was hell, but it's worse out here. It's so damn noisy."
"Well, that wasn't the reaction I was expecting out of ya'." The girl's face went a little gloomy. "To tell you the truth, this place makes me uncomfortable too."
"Because of those guys from earlier?"
"Something like that, it’s not that they aren't involved, I… uh, well they aren't! i- it's complicated."
The boy stared at Rosè, trying to see if he could derive any meaning from her face. Whatever she just said was so confusing to him, that if it had been an extraterrestrial alien who was speaking the language of a different planet, he'd probably still at least have a better idea of the intentions behind their words. Dust thought hard for a moment, analyzing her sentence, before realizing that he was much too bad at conversation to understand the undertones. He shrugged. "I suppose I'll take that at face value." He decided.
"Grr…" She growled. "You're so cheesy! Let's just go get some clothes already!"
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"So tell me, how do I look?" Rosè left from a dressing room in a regal gown. It was a glittery, red dress, lined from top to bottom in metal ornaments and jewelry. It was the type of dress where one leg was barely covered, a side of the dress hiked up to the mid-thigh.
Rosè struck a couple poses. "Well, well! How do I look?" She asked again.
The two had now found themselves in a fancy clothing store. The wallpapers, carpets, and all the drapes were all a regal white. The carpet along the floor was clearly crafted from high quality tailoring. Each step felt like stepping onto smooth cotton balls, textured, but fluffy. The walls were mostly a pure-white, occasionally broken up by some roses painted on to the wallpaper, or often a window, which rose up by about six silver plated panes before peaking into a picturesque arch.
A salesman from the store suddenly approached the pair, rubbing his hands together in a slimy manner. "Is there anything I can help you with today?" The man wore a pink shirt with buttons and dark gray pants spun of denim. Dust had never seen a combo so daring.
The pink shirt also had a logo on it. It read, 'Marceline's: Premium Gowns.'
"People wear clothes with advertising on it in this city?" The boy put his right hand to his chin.
"Dust, shut up." Rosè slammed her elbow into his side.
“Ow, why?”
"Also, yes sir, I'd actually like to buy this gown."
"At once, young lady. Please follow me to the counter." The man bent down and left his hand out for the woman to grab.
She cocked her head away and flicked her wrist out. Clearly wooed by the man's actions, she took his hand and followed him to the counter. Then, once there, he punched the price into a strangely shaped type-writer and said, "That will be four-thousand grams."
"Wooh, four-thousand is a bit high, dontcha' think?"
"I'm sorry young lady, if I could give you a… 'Beautiful Discount', I would." The man posed with his hand against his chest and his pelvis thrust forward.
"What the-?" The man's sudden display of character caused Dust to step a couple steps back in fear.
"Ooh, Dusty don't you think that price is a little high? Can you pay for little ol' me?" The lady scrunched her body tightly around Dust's arm again, but he stood staring forwards, confused and out of his element.
"Since when was my name Dusty. Also, a little high? That price is outrageous. I definitely can't pay that, I'm way too poor."
"You're poor?" Rosè's jaw dropped down to the floor. "Woah, maybe I should've guessed by your shabby appearance…Your slight stench… And man, that terrible confidence!"
"I don't even know what I'm doing here."
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"Should we start with dessert, or the meal?" The girl asked, her new heels clacking as she merrily frolicked through the busy city streets. As she jogged ahead of Dust, to him, she began to blend deep into the city streets. A sea of people behind and all around her. It reminded the boy that there truly were all sorts of people, from many walks of life, all exploring the many buildings, which offered products for anything and everything. There were restaurants for food Dust had never heard of, stores for items he had never thought to buy, and market stalls for fruit grown all across the nation. His eyes got lost in all the details. "I'm thinking we start with dessert. I could go for an ice cream."
"Who starts with the dessert…?" Dust asked, scratching the back of his head.
"Hey, don't judge, you're too broke to be a judging man." She giggled. "You're already a low grade in that field, better make up for them in the manners department." After dropping another rude comment, the girl began to look around innocently. She stared into the saturated colors from the rows and columns of restaurants, and at all the bright and grabbing overhead advertising. But, there was one in particular that caught her eye. Its advertising was a simple picture of the classic, delectable dairy treat. Ice cream. And not just any ice cream, smooth, industrial ice cream, topped with sprinkles and a cheeky little cherry for presentation. "Ooh, let's go there! To that ice cream place." She jumped repeatedly as she pointed.
"How old are you anyways?" Dust couldn't help but ask.
"Twenty-one, you?"
"Twenty-one, shocking." He wiped sweat off his forehead. "That's two whole years older than me. You act far too childish for your age."
"You're younger than me? Ew." She cocked her head back. "Meh, I guess you're still taller so it's okay."
Dust wasn’t the most social of fellows, but he wasn’t completely ignorant. He understood talk like this was akin to the way people on dates would speak to each other.It bothered him that she felt so comfortable around him. "Why are you talking like this?" He asked. "I told you I'm not someone you should be getting involved with."
But Rosè ignored the boy’s warnings again, running off merrily towards the desert bar.
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"What flavor scoops would you like?" Dust suddenly found himself in a restaurant of sorts, and it was the first time he had been confronted by customer service employees. He was completely taken out of his element. The employee was a young lady, much shorter than the boy, who wore a white t-shirt and dress pants. Though, Dust recognized that she looked as though she hailed from the land of Qiánguó, the walled country. She had the most persistent eastern features such as a scrunched nose, thinner eyes, and a sunken face. He had observed all these details, but he still couldn't bring himself to order. He actually ended up staring for long enough to make the employee impatient. "Hello? What kind of ice cream would you like?"
"Oh, uh…" Dust looked down at the selection which lay just on the other side of some glass that covered the counter top. It was a mess of all sorts of colors, labels, and flavors. There were at least twenty different flavors, some just vanilla with added chunks and mystery bits, others were entirely different colors, pink, orange, and even green. "Ohh, what could green ice cream possibly taste like? Whatever happened to just Vanilla?" The boy groaned.
"Oh, that's our Wasabi ice cream sir, it's the taste of the east, here at your local creamery! Delivering the taste of the world, one scoop at a time! That's Lian's Ice Cream way!"
"I'll just take two scoops of vanilla…" He sighed.
The woman began to wet a sort of ice cream scoop in some hot water, then she grabbed a bowl, and began to shovel over the vanilla scoops from their cooling bin on the counter, into the serving tray. After she finished, she stepped up to what Dust had recently been taught was called a 'cash register', and began to punch something in. "Okay, a medium vanilla ice cream… That will be twenty grams."
"Twenty grams?" His jaw dropped a little before he turned around suddenly. "Heh, Rosè, could you cover me?"
"Asking the girl to pay, are we?"
"Hey, I didn't even ask to be here…"
"It's okay. I got you," Rosè smiled. "Since you always need me to take care of you… I will for now." She said in a flirtatious tone. "Hey! Excuse me, ma'am! Just go ahead and take my order and add that one to it."
"Alright, and what may I do for you, miss?"
"I'll have a large ice cream, one scoop of strawberry, one scoop 'Taste of Azumè: Banana-Berry Splash', and one scoop 'Taste of the Lihtan Empire: Soft Serve Linguine.” For my toppings I'll have sprinkles, milk-drips, mystical yummy-swirl, marshmello rainbow pops, glitter pops, oh and almonds. Oh, and don't forget the salty caramel drizzle. Light drizzle, I only like a little bit. The caramel is just kind of overpowering."
"Okay, hmmm… I believe I got it all. That will be twenty-seven grams and thirty centigrams." The employee gave a cheesy fake smile.
"A twenty seven gram ice cream? That's robbery." Dust stared at the employee.
"Woah, Dust!" Rosè walked up and punched him directly in the face. "You can't be saying stuff like that!" She turned to the employee and bowed her head. "Sorry, you'll have to excuse him. He's just some poor bumpkin who doesn't know how to act properly because he's never seen what civilized city people act like."
"A hill-rat?” The employee scoffed.
Despite Rosè's previous insults to Dust, the one sudden comment from the girl had set her off. She raised her hands up and slammed them against the counter. "What makes you think you can insult him like that!?" She mouthed.
"Well…" Dust thought of something he could say to be smart-ass, but he chose not to add it to the conversation. He decided it was best to just let these two girls fight it out. He figured there was no need to get involved. So, he remained a spectator, and watched as the women bickered.
"What’s with the sudden attitude?" The foreign lady looked insulted by Rosè’s actions.
"My family is from North Illustria! Us northern-blooded girls are known for our spunk!"
"You're from up north…?" The cashier questioned. "I heard women from there have flowers for brains."
"What kind of rumor-!?" Rosè twitched from anger. She was having a hard time holding herself back from just pouncing on the waitress and wailing on her. "C'mon, Dust!" She yelled as she stormed towards the exit. "We are leaving this establishment!"
"Uh, okay." He followed after the girl, doing a light jog to keep up. "I kinda wanted that ice cream though…"
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"At least at a place like this we can enjoy our food with minimal interruption from other people." Rosè sat across from Dust at a table for two, lounging in a world class chair, and enjoying a romantic dinner over a sharp, black, table. As she began to speak, she dug a small knife through a mouth-watering cut of steak. The meat glistened under the light of the chandeliers, and the tempered blade glided through the tender cut with ease, splitting it apart down in its juicy center. "Plus, I was dying for a medium-rare steak." The lady added.
She stabbed her fine, silver fork into a sliver of meat that she had cut, and raised it up to her mouth. On the sides, you could observe that the meat consisted of a runny, pink mass in its center, which quickly gave way to a dark brown in a faint gradient as you went further towards the edges. The small cluster of proteins built up around the less-cooked, and juicier section, oozed out from the center, creating a cacophony of flavors against the bottom of the porcelain platter, which, don't worry, Rosè didn't forget to sop up before she raised the steak to her mouth.
Slowly, and with anticipation, Rosè spread apart the floodgates, opening her mouth in an almost seductive manner. Forget her date with Dust, she was on a date with this steak, and this cut of meat turned out to be rich with a nice sense of humor. As if saying her vows to the beef, she clamped her teeth down, locking it in and quickly tearing through the soft cut of meat. She let its salty contents ooze and then linger at the bottom of her mouth. Steam flowed freely around her tongue, her body shivered with goosebumps from the warmth.
Meanwhile, Dust on the other hand hadn't even touched his meal. He wasn't quite sure how to eat it. He had tried to copy Rosè's cutting technique, but he had a hard time keeping the meat in place while he sliced. After a little while of trying he just shrugged and stopped even trying to eat the food.
He really did look out of place. As if the formality outside wasn't enough, the interior of this restaurant was almost over-doing it. Red and purple carpets, lining the floor. Dim and dramatic, candle-lit lighting. A couple candles, stacked on each table, emitted a small field of light around each of the couples. Which subsequently, formed a dark and mysterious atmosphere as you navigated from table to table.
Smooth, jazzy, music echoed from a phonograph somewhere in the establishment. It played a sexy tune with a. dainty saxophone, and some light snapping for a drum beat.
A cup of flowers sat on the table. There were two red roses and a type of Illustrian blue flower that Dust wasn't familiar with. They were healthy flowers, recently plucked for sure. Rosè bent forward to sniff them at one point, but Dust was uninterested. Instead, he stared. He hadn't the slightest clue how to navigate his environment, so he opted out entirely. He decided he'd just revert back to a microorganism for the time-being.
He looked proper lost. His closed off, almost sheltering, body language was enough to make anyone choke. He kept himself slouched, sitting with his hands resting over his lap. It also didn't help that he looked like he grew up in an orphanage with his baggy pants, and his hand-me-down coat. "Can we leave?" The boy asked.
"Leave? I haven't even finished my steak. And hey, what's up with you? You not gonna eat that expensive meal I'm paying for?"
"I didn't even ask for this." He responded in a dry tone. "In fact, you ordered my food for me. I didn't even want the steak."
"Hey, I was just choosing the best option so you had no chance of picking the other ones. Think of it as me helping you out!"
"Sure…" Dust had finally come to understand something vital. His day here with Rosè, it was not ending anytime soon, and he had to live with that. At first, he dreaded the fact, but he had finally come to terms with it. He just needed to put up with her for a day, then he could finally be out on his own again. He also figured that while he was here, he might as well play along with the woman's games.
He looked down and eyed the steak. He'd be lying if he said the grill lines weren't speaking to him. His stomach turned in knots, growling as saliva rose to his tongue. "It has been a while since I ate. I might as well fill up here.” He thought. And so, Dust went back to his struggle with cutting the meat, but he didn’t give up this time. He scraped the plate back and forth with his cutting knife, scratching and leaving marks all across its exterior, and in the process, he tore his meat to shreds. It wasn’t steak in any presentable capacity, but at least it was edible. He scooped up some of the scraps onto his fork and took them all at once. Each little bite of steak, even so small and torn, was still delectable and savory.
He could feel himself being revitalized by the dish. Even after only a couple bites, he could feel light return to his eyes. He felt he had just woken after a long, long dream. Something in him had snapped, his eyes went wide, and he looked down at his dish. He thought of all the flavors that lay before him, and his mouth began to water. Suddenly, he snapped, and started to tear his food apart. He couldn't help himself anymore, he ate everything. The steak, the baked potato, the green beans, all of it.
Rosè stared at him, a tad confused.The animalistic way he had just begun to scarf his food down shocked the girl. “Are you alright?” She asked. “I never expected you to be such a pig.”
Just after Rosè dished out her usual harassment, she noticed something. She looked up to Dust, staring him in his weak and tired eyes as he experienced his first five-star meal. The boy was crying. Tears had come to his eyes all of sudden, and he couldn’t stop them from flowing. He put his right sleeve up to face, and tried to dry his tears. “I didn’t know there was food this good in the world…” He sobbed. “It’s too good. Someone like me doesn't deserve to eat this, but I can’t stop… It just makes me so happy.”
Rosè gave him a cheeky smirk. “It’s damn good, isn’t it?"
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The pair finished their steak dinner, and now they were back out on the town. After a few minutes of walking they had reached a sort of end to the commercial district. “So what did you even come here for in the first place? I remember you saying something about it being a secret.” The young lady pried.
“It still is.” Dust responded.
The sun had begun to set, and the crowds of the market began to fade. Though there were even less people in the area Rosè and Dust had wandered into. It was a long stretch of stone, a bay, one side with a view of the backs of the large storefronts, and the other with a picturesque, scenic ocean view. “C'monn…” Rosè pleaded as she looked out to the ocean. “Just tell me what your secret is. I have a pretty good idea anyway.”
The two walked closer towards the bay, towards the towering cliff that dropped down to the ocean below. Though, hanging over the cliff, was a pier of sorts. A large one, made of cobbled stone that stretched all the way across the perimeter of the bay. It provided a fence for the two young adults to lean upon. A place to rest as they stared out at the setting sun. “What do you mean you have a good idea?”
The orange from the dusking sky melted into Dust’s hair. His white strands were easily overpowered by the rich hue from above. They had become orange, with a hint of pink, and a tinge blue. The colors of the world soaked into his light hair, but reflected from his dark skin, creating a contrast between his face and head. Rosè couldn’t help but observe the boy. She observed the way the light illuminated his round nose. And the way his lips jutted out just a bit more than hers. They looked so full. She also noticed the way his eyes reflected the sun. A flare of yellow bounced off the lens above his pupil. Even without eye contact, Rosè felt connected to him. As if he was always paying attention to her, passively.
“I know what any young traveling-man like you would come here for. Durham is famous for it after-all.”
“...” Dust chose not to respond. He knew he had been caught.
“You’re going to the Black Market, aren’t you?”
“...” The boy faced the ground. Rosè’s response left him lost in thought for a moment. He hesitated. “So, if you know… Are you going to tell anyone?”
“Heh,” She scoffed. “As if me telling anyone would matter. Even if I told a guard they would just shrug. Such is the will of this town.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You didn’t know?” The young lady looked genuinely shocked. “To Durham, the market is everything. It’s our crutch. To the government, it’s like a skeleton in the closet. A necessary evil.” Rosè paused. “Do you see all these shops behind you? Have you ever wondered what the rest of the town looks like?”
“I haven’t.”
“Heh, typical outsider… But I can’t blame ya’.” Rosè shifted more of her weight onto the railing. She looked away from Dust and faced down towards the water.
“If I wasn't from here I’d believe the picture Durham tries to paint for itself too. An economically perfect city, with an elusive underground market, full of secret elixirs and deadly trinkets. It’s such a fantastical idea. Though, the truth is, it’s all just that. An idea.” The lady appeared troubled by her own words. She was forcing something. Dust eyed her from the side. “Every restaurant, every business, many of the market stalls, it’s all a front. Places that aren’t owned by one of the few nobles are rare, and the reason they remain so economically powerful is through the illegal trades and the dark offers of ‘The Market.’”
Dust continued to stare at the girl. His eyes remained tired and relaxed. From an outsider's perspective, it would be completely up in the air as to whether or not he was even paying attention to the young lady, but she had the feeling that he was. She could feel the warmth of the silent, yet attentive aura that flowed from him.
Though, I’m sure an outsider like you might have trouble finding the issues in that system, wouldn’t you?” Rosè hesitated in her words. It was as if she didn’t even want to believe what she was saying. The girl looked up from the water and back to Dust. There was an inquisitive look about her. Her bottom lip hung open a bit, and her brows were raised.
“No, I do understand.” The boy responded. “I’m sure this visual of prosperity spreads thin within the mile of the city square. All of today I have been observing. I could feel that something was wrong, but thank you for sharing that with me. It was very educational.”
Rosè observed the wanderer. “So you can think, huh?” The girl laughed.
“I feel like you don’t hear yourself.”
"But, even though you understand, and even though you can comprehend what someone who lives here must endure, you're still going to go, aren't you? To that horrid place."
Dust turned to face the girl. He stared for a moment, wondering why Rosè would ask him such a question. The woman met his eyes with hers, and even though she had just challenged his goals with a moral dilemma, she still gave him a faint smirk. "It is my mission." The boy answered.
"Your mission?" She chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“There aren't any deeper meanings. My ‘mission’ is simply that, a mission.”
Rosè leaned forward and shoved the boy. “Stop being so corny,” she said as Dust stumbled away. “Anyways, as much as I hate the place, I can bring you there if you want me to. I’m pretty well acquainted with the black market, so I can show you around.”
“That would solve many problems for me, but I don’t advise staying around me for very long.” The boy backed a few steps away from Rosè, trying to show her the distance he still kept between them.
But, the young lady quickly breached his guard. She stepped up into his personal space, walking closer and closer until he was forced to back away. That’s when she planted her soles into the ground and leaned her head towards Dust. “We’ve been together all day and nothing bad has happened!” She shouted. “Surely I could survive a couple more hours! Just follow me, I’ll show you the way.”
Before the boy could object, Rosè had made off for the shopping district once more.
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