DO Quest: The Hourglass Turns
Jun 3, 2008 22:04:24 GMT
Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2008 22:04:24 GMT
"You sure you got it, Lace?"
"N-no!"
"Then what the bloody 'ell you doin' up there!?"
"Dad told me to put it up!"
"Leave it be, and get your ass off that roof!"
Up above, one could hear the exhasperated sigh of the young female, and the irritated whistling of air out of the nostrils of the older down below. The exchange between the two women wasn't an uncommon event in their neighborhood, families so closely knit together they rubbed so hard against one another's nerves, they could spontaneously burst into flames at any given moment. Out here in the wastelands of Albandia, that wasn't actually too improbable a concept. Up on the sheet-metal roof, a loud bang sounded as something metallic and heavy was set down, a groan given as someone stretched their aching back. Down below, a skinny woman of around forty was standing at the foot of a ladder, fists on her hips and her face set in a scowl.
"I said leave it be, not chuck it!" Her ire was hot, but evenly tempered. She knew that whatever it was her husband had sent her daughter to install was probably heavy enough to bust a hole through the trading post walls at the right speed.
"I didn't throw it! Holy balls, will you just calm yourself!?" A lithe shape appeared at the roof's edge, mounted the ladder smoothly, and slid down with a practiced grace that bespoke much familiarity with heights. When he feet touched down, she gave a small grunt of effort, then straightened and brushed it all off. Turning to her mother, she planted her own delicate hands on slender hips, tilting her body into a sassy curve that would make any male passerby double-take. "What's got your panties all in a bunch then?"
Her mother raised her hand as if to back-hand her, but instead only shook it, knowing that slapping her daughter would only cause her to become ever more churlish. "Don't ya sass me girlie, or I'll knock your teeth down your skinny little throat. Yer father's been tinkerin' again, and he's using our water rations to cool off his worked metal, the greedy bastard." Lace's mother whisked off back into their home, brushing the long drapery aside with an irritated huff.
"Well, you know when he's got the fever in him, there's nothing we can do about it." The young girl shrugged and slid her hands into her pockets, following her mother inside and leaning up against the wall. Her atire was simple, capri pants, sandles she made herself, and a sleeveless shirt with a deep collar. Her tanned skin told volumes of the amount she spent in the sun, the light clothing just enough to keep her cool, all in a neutral gray. Her hair matched her eyes, a rusty-red that only seemed to blaze to life in the sun, and hold it even inside for a time.
Lace's mother simply gave another irritated sigh. "Gods know I love that man, but if he spends another ten minutes wastin' our water, I'll smack him one, good!" She grabbed herself a broom and started to attack the flagstone floor with a vengeance, kicking up almost as much dust into the air as she swept out to the front. Lace simply gave a small chuckle and patted her mother's back, skipping lightly out the back door. Her mother detested her skips, thinking them far too sissy, even for a girl, but with her back turned she noticed nothing.
The girl ran out to the shed, where she could hear the tell-tale hiss of her father's welding tools. The sun's heat was bad enough, creating distorting heat waves at just fifteen paces, but the heat rising from the roof of this little shack seemed intolerable. Lace grabbed hold of the heavy rope handle and pulled the door open, immediately moving off to the side. The heat that burst forth from the tiny room was worse than an oven, cascading from the doorway like a waterfall, only into the air, rather than against the ground. She gave the heat several moments to disappate before sidling into the room, gasping for air as she did so. Her father had long ago taught her how to survive in case of a heat-attack, so she wasn't as uncomfortable in the burning-hot metal room as someone else would. In the far corner of the shanty was a gentleman wearing next to nothing, an apron that protected nothing but his modesty tied around his waist.
"Poppa, the rains have come again!" The hissing of the blowtorch in the man's hand stopped, and he turned around to try and see whomever had entered through goggles blackened with soot. He could barely see through them, but he recognized his daughter's light voice and basic outline. He smiled in response and put his torch down.
"Then we must set out the barrels for our good fortune!" The laughed together and embraced one another, the both of them wearing glowing smiles. She inhaled deeply and memories of her childhood sprang forth, her father's heady scent of work, strain, and hot metal filled her nostrils with familiarity. "What brings my darling Laylay out here?"
"Momma's b**ching about you using our water as coolant again."
"Watch yourself young lady, you may be nineteen years, but you're not too old to get a spanking from your old dad." He gave her shoulder a jovial push, then heaved a monumental sigh, stripping off his goggles and gloves. "I thought she would be. I guess that's it for this month then." Lace crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
"I still say that someone's been finchin' off our water."
Her father nodded, "That may be true, there's certainly enough evidence to prove it, but we haven't caught anyone, so we can't blame someone without proof." Lace grunted in concurrance, but that didn't mean she had to like it any better. "C'mon love, Mother's probably worked herself into enough of a froth."
"... Sure we can spare the water for that?" She had meant it in ill-humor, but the pair of them couldn't help but laugh anyway.
============================================================
Later that night, the family was almost dead to the world. Lace was in her hammock on the second floor, her parents on their cots down near the food storage. For some reason, Lace was suddenly shocked awake, her whole body tensed and her senses on high alert. She listened carefully for several agonizing moments, but heard nothing to suggest there was any tangible reason she had started so unexpectedly. She adjusted herself in her net and closed her eyes, and her heartbeat returned to normal. It was then that she heard it: metal on metal, hushed voices, and the unmistakable dribble of water. She cursed herself for letting her hearing be dulled by her rushing blood, and half-leaped, half-fell from her bed. She hurriedly grabbed her heavy scarf and the hammer she'd used the other day to fix her hammock, and flew down the stairs to the back. She stopped dead at the threshold to see three young men she recognized having a low conversation by their watershed.
She exhaled with a rush of anger, her breath misting before her in the below-freezing air. Still wearing her day-time clothing, goosebumps ran across her bare skin, but not faster than she ran across the sandy stone towards the theives stealing their water.
"OI! YOU GREEDY BASTARDS, GET AWAY FROM THERE!!"
The boys, surprised, froze before realizing they were being assaulted by someone with a weapon. They scattered, and Lace, still infuriated at their gall, ran after the largest of them. She chased them clear across the main road, down several alleys, and deeper into the center of the living area. All at once, she turned a corner and came face to face with a dead-end. The boy she had been chasing was nowhere in sight, but she proceeded cautiously down the alley just in case. Her chest heaved from the run in the cold, misting in front of her face as she crept closer to the back of the building at the end.
Finally, she gave up and lowered her hammer, a sigh of discontent and frustration escaping her throat. Without warning, a pair of meaty arms wrapped around her and squeezed so tightly, she almost couldn't draw breath. She kicked out as hard as she could, striking home several harsh blows to her assailant's knees, but he didn't relent, instead, whirling her around and slamming her head against the stone of one of the buildings next to them. Her vision blurred, her head throbbed, and it was all she could do not to cry out in pain and shock. She was carried farther down the alley, and soon she could hear the shuffle of other footsteps.
"S'this the b**ch?"
"She's got the hammer, s'gotta be."
Her heart beat twice as fast in her chest, and she gripped her weapon even tighter. Before she could struggle, the tool was ripped from her hand, and her scarf was pulled off her neck and face. She looked at her captors with menace in her eyes, and all they could do was leer at her. She could recall every single name, not one of them at all respected in her community.
"Whadd'ya know, it's that Lace girl..."
"Heh heh heh... yeah, I'd been waitin' 'till I could get mah hands on 'er..."
All she could do was watch as his hand reached out for her body, where it was headed, she didn't know, and she shut her eyes tight. Suddenly, there was a rush of air and a meaty thud, a cry of pain, and Lace could stand it no longer. Peeking from beneath half-closed lids, she was shocked to see the one who'd been attempting to fondle her was now out cold, laying against the sandy ground in a heap, his nose bloody. The other was crumpled against a wall, alive, but uncoscious, while not far away a tall person stood straight and proud in the pale moonlight. On his hip hung a sword, and a length of fabric was wrapped around his head and neck, revealing only startelingly beautiful white eyes. Right now, the stared at her remaining kidnapper, who was shaking either from cold, excitement, or fear.
"Now... would you mind letting her go? It's obvious she doesn't like you."
"N-no!"
"Then what the bloody 'ell you doin' up there!?"
"Dad told me to put it up!"
"Leave it be, and get your ass off that roof!"
Up above, one could hear the exhasperated sigh of the young female, and the irritated whistling of air out of the nostrils of the older down below. The exchange between the two women wasn't an uncommon event in their neighborhood, families so closely knit together they rubbed so hard against one another's nerves, they could spontaneously burst into flames at any given moment. Out here in the wastelands of Albandia, that wasn't actually too improbable a concept. Up on the sheet-metal roof, a loud bang sounded as something metallic and heavy was set down, a groan given as someone stretched their aching back. Down below, a skinny woman of around forty was standing at the foot of a ladder, fists on her hips and her face set in a scowl.
"I said leave it be, not chuck it!" Her ire was hot, but evenly tempered. She knew that whatever it was her husband had sent her daughter to install was probably heavy enough to bust a hole through the trading post walls at the right speed.
"I didn't throw it! Holy balls, will you just calm yourself!?" A lithe shape appeared at the roof's edge, mounted the ladder smoothly, and slid down with a practiced grace that bespoke much familiarity with heights. When he feet touched down, she gave a small grunt of effort, then straightened and brushed it all off. Turning to her mother, she planted her own delicate hands on slender hips, tilting her body into a sassy curve that would make any male passerby double-take. "What's got your panties all in a bunch then?"
Her mother raised her hand as if to back-hand her, but instead only shook it, knowing that slapping her daughter would only cause her to become ever more churlish. "Don't ya sass me girlie, or I'll knock your teeth down your skinny little throat. Yer father's been tinkerin' again, and he's using our water rations to cool off his worked metal, the greedy bastard." Lace's mother whisked off back into their home, brushing the long drapery aside with an irritated huff.
"Well, you know when he's got the fever in him, there's nothing we can do about it." The young girl shrugged and slid her hands into her pockets, following her mother inside and leaning up against the wall. Her atire was simple, capri pants, sandles she made herself, and a sleeveless shirt with a deep collar. Her tanned skin told volumes of the amount she spent in the sun, the light clothing just enough to keep her cool, all in a neutral gray. Her hair matched her eyes, a rusty-red that only seemed to blaze to life in the sun, and hold it even inside for a time.
Lace's mother simply gave another irritated sigh. "Gods know I love that man, but if he spends another ten minutes wastin' our water, I'll smack him one, good!" She grabbed herself a broom and started to attack the flagstone floor with a vengeance, kicking up almost as much dust into the air as she swept out to the front. Lace simply gave a small chuckle and patted her mother's back, skipping lightly out the back door. Her mother detested her skips, thinking them far too sissy, even for a girl, but with her back turned she noticed nothing.
The girl ran out to the shed, where she could hear the tell-tale hiss of her father's welding tools. The sun's heat was bad enough, creating distorting heat waves at just fifteen paces, but the heat rising from the roof of this little shack seemed intolerable. Lace grabbed hold of the heavy rope handle and pulled the door open, immediately moving off to the side. The heat that burst forth from the tiny room was worse than an oven, cascading from the doorway like a waterfall, only into the air, rather than against the ground. She gave the heat several moments to disappate before sidling into the room, gasping for air as she did so. Her father had long ago taught her how to survive in case of a heat-attack, so she wasn't as uncomfortable in the burning-hot metal room as someone else would. In the far corner of the shanty was a gentleman wearing next to nothing, an apron that protected nothing but his modesty tied around his waist.
"Poppa, the rains have come again!" The hissing of the blowtorch in the man's hand stopped, and he turned around to try and see whomever had entered through goggles blackened with soot. He could barely see through them, but he recognized his daughter's light voice and basic outline. He smiled in response and put his torch down.
"Then we must set out the barrels for our good fortune!" The laughed together and embraced one another, the both of them wearing glowing smiles. She inhaled deeply and memories of her childhood sprang forth, her father's heady scent of work, strain, and hot metal filled her nostrils with familiarity. "What brings my darling Laylay out here?"
"Momma's b**ching about you using our water as coolant again."
"Watch yourself young lady, you may be nineteen years, but you're not too old to get a spanking from your old dad." He gave her shoulder a jovial push, then heaved a monumental sigh, stripping off his goggles and gloves. "I thought she would be. I guess that's it for this month then." Lace crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
"I still say that someone's been finchin' off our water."
Her father nodded, "That may be true, there's certainly enough evidence to prove it, but we haven't caught anyone, so we can't blame someone without proof." Lace grunted in concurrance, but that didn't mean she had to like it any better. "C'mon love, Mother's probably worked herself into enough of a froth."
"... Sure we can spare the water for that?" She had meant it in ill-humor, but the pair of them couldn't help but laugh anyway.
============================================================
Later that night, the family was almost dead to the world. Lace was in her hammock on the second floor, her parents on their cots down near the food storage. For some reason, Lace was suddenly shocked awake, her whole body tensed and her senses on high alert. She listened carefully for several agonizing moments, but heard nothing to suggest there was any tangible reason she had started so unexpectedly. She adjusted herself in her net and closed her eyes, and her heartbeat returned to normal. It was then that she heard it: metal on metal, hushed voices, and the unmistakable dribble of water. She cursed herself for letting her hearing be dulled by her rushing blood, and half-leaped, half-fell from her bed. She hurriedly grabbed her heavy scarf and the hammer she'd used the other day to fix her hammock, and flew down the stairs to the back. She stopped dead at the threshold to see three young men she recognized having a low conversation by their watershed.
She exhaled with a rush of anger, her breath misting before her in the below-freezing air. Still wearing her day-time clothing, goosebumps ran across her bare skin, but not faster than she ran across the sandy stone towards the theives stealing their water.
"OI! YOU GREEDY BASTARDS, GET AWAY FROM THERE!!"
The boys, surprised, froze before realizing they were being assaulted by someone with a weapon. They scattered, and Lace, still infuriated at their gall, ran after the largest of them. She chased them clear across the main road, down several alleys, and deeper into the center of the living area. All at once, she turned a corner and came face to face with a dead-end. The boy she had been chasing was nowhere in sight, but she proceeded cautiously down the alley just in case. Her chest heaved from the run in the cold, misting in front of her face as she crept closer to the back of the building at the end.
Finally, she gave up and lowered her hammer, a sigh of discontent and frustration escaping her throat. Without warning, a pair of meaty arms wrapped around her and squeezed so tightly, she almost couldn't draw breath. She kicked out as hard as she could, striking home several harsh blows to her assailant's knees, but he didn't relent, instead, whirling her around and slamming her head against the stone of one of the buildings next to them. Her vision blurred, her head throbbed, and it was all she could do not to cry out in pain and shock. She was carried farther down the alley, and soon she could hear the shuffle of other footsteps.
"S'this the b**ch?"
"She's got the hammer, s'gotta be."
Her heart beat twice as fast in her chest, and she gripped her weapon even tighter. Before she could struggle, the tool was ripped from her hand, and her scarf was pulled off her neck and face. She looked at her captors with menace in her eyes, and all they could do was leer at her. She could recall every single name, not one of them at all respected in her community.
"Whadd'ya know, it's that Lace girl..."
"Heh heh heh... yeah, I'd been waitin' 'till I could get mah hands on 'er..."
All she could do was watch as his hand reached out for her body, where it was headed, she didn't know, and she shut her eyes tight. Suddenly, there was a rush of air and a meaty thud, a cry of pain, and Lace could stand it no longer. Peeking from beneath half-closed lids, she was shocked to see the one who'd been attempting to fondle her was now out cold, laying against the sandy ground in a heap, his nose bloody. The other was crumpled against a wall, alive, but uncoscious, while not far away a tall person stood straight and proud in the pale moonlight. On his hip hung a sword, and a length of fabric was wrapped around his head and neck, revealing only startelingly beautiful white eyes. Right now, the stared at her remaining kidnapper, who was shaking either from cold, excitement, or fear.
"Now... would you mind letting her go? It's obvious she doesn't like you."