literature

Viola Acobi: Day One

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I wasn't sure whether to scream or cry when I saw the night's leavings.

I kept pawing through the bags of trash, the huge steel dumpster smelling worse and worse the more I stood around, digging through the waste like a lunatic.

But I didn't scream, and I definitely didn't cry. Deep down I knew that weeknights were always chancey at best, with none of the leftovers of the banquets piled high for the rich and powerful. Still, finding nothing probably meant Rondy or one of the other kids made it here before me.

It wasn't my fault, really, being late. Coming out of my little den in the alley between Madam Sophie's Fine Hats and the flower shop on Wabash Avenue, I was stopped by a man who looked like he lost one good fight, collapsed and smearing blood against the otherwise immaculate brick wall of the hat store.

I didn't even notice him at first until my healing magic leapt from my heart down to my fingertips with a jolt. 

You see, I always had these... powers. Madam Watterson, the woman who took me in, found me on her door stop as an infant one night, crying on the way babies do. At first, she agreed to bring me inside just until morning when the police station opened. Soon, a week had gone by, and her husband, Gideon, who was an adventurer and a treasure-hunter came home, and she said I was to be kept. Maddam Watterson was very sick, typically confined to her wheelchair, and said that when she held me on her lap, it made her feel better. It's been a near fourteen years since, and I worked hard to control and use my talents for those in need.

Those like this man. I knew to work quickly, the magic didn't jump that quickly- or painfully- unless it was something important. It must have been pretty bad, too, because even though it took me almost half an hour to fix up his bruised ribs, bruised head, bruised everything, he stayed out cold, which was actually for the better. I even gave him a touch of a sleeping spell to keep him under for a little while more, this kind of healing could be a bit much to handle if you woke up too soon.

As soon as I looked up at the big clocktower in the middle of Moil, though, I knew my good turn had cost me quite a bit of precious time. Even though I raced quickly down to my usual spot for good eating, it all seemed to be for nothing. 

I slumped against the wall of the alley, debating what to do next, curling up tighter when a fat, hairy rat was about to scurry around my boots. 

I didn't want to go back to the temple, I'd already asked enough of her these past few weeks and they probably had other kids who needed her help more. I definitely didn't want to sneak into Augustana's bar tonight, Nash would be there and he'd tell me yet again that if I was that desperate to eat, he'd buy my jacket off of me, the one with the special pocket in it. My stomach growled noisily, reminding me that tonight might be the time I don't say 'no'.

Yes sir, it's that important to me, it was the only thing I was allowed to take with me when I was turned out the Watterson's a year ago, besides some of the little things I could stash of mine. A few of my friends have had their eye on it because, you see, it has this special pocket on the inside. Dunno what kind of magic was worked on it, but it can hold miles more than a regular pocket its size.

So there I was, sitting there in that filthy alleyway, I was about to give up and start sobbing when I heard a whistling, loud and trilling through the air. 

"Badger!" I cried, pushing myself up, recognizing the tune immediately.

Sure enough, it was Percy Badger in the flesh, leaning against the wall oh-so-casually.

Badger was a boy about my age and would have been attractive if he had the time, or means to wash up. His dark hair was a hopeless, unruly mess, kept firmly under a gray military-style hat that I'd only seen him once without and his eyes were an icy, cutting blue. Poor as he was, as we all were, he still made an effort to dress like some kind of gentleman, although a messy, disheveled one. Fine trousers with a tear up one leg, silk vest with a ripped pocket and a pair of mismatched cuff links stuck in a stained, wrinkled shirt were all he could scrounge together these days, but looking even somewhat the part was somehow important.

The other girls who hung around the streets or slung themselves around whatever bars and taverns he'd frequent trailed after him as if he were Divinity itself, but I'd given up those delusions a long, long time ago.

"You were expectin' someone else?" he asked in his thick, lower city accent. "Xav said 'e seen ya out by where Mason's put their garbage, in a bit 'a distress, yeah?"

"Tonight's been some lean pickings, Badge," I admitted. 

"Well, I go' a bit of a remedy for that, love."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a ship that jus' landed in the city, a deliv'ry vessel called the 'Red Star'. Rumor 'as that she's onna a stop t' pick up food n' supplies t' transport t' some'a the poorer regions between 'ere and 'ammerfell. But y' see, the fing is, the ship 'as no crew. All she's got is'a cap'n, all them pretty treasures guarded by one man."

I must have looked like an idiot, my eyes wide and my mouth hanging open. "Stealing? I would never do something like that- I couldn't!"

Badger shrugged, "What choice 'ave ya got? Tell me, when was the last time ya ate?"

"Three days ago," I admitted, my hand instantly going to my protesting stomach.

"Listen, you do this once an' ya never 'ave t' again. Yer desp'rate, an' I don' wanna see you disappear on me, yeah?"

Just as I was about to reply, he added, "An' no, I won't bring ya nothin'. This ain' a bleedin rest'rant an' you've t' learn the values of 'ard work, ya hear?"

I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes tiredly, "We could go to the cake shop on Candlestick Street, sometimes they throw out their stale pastries," I suggested. 

Badger shook his head, "San'tation's already startin' ta make their rounds, all the ol' spots are clear. 'sides, I already checked everywhere worth checkin', love. This is it, unless you're goin' for a record week of no eatin'."

I sighed, "I really, really don't want to do this."

"But...?"

"But you're right. We don't have a choice. Let's go, before I change my mind."

So we raced down to the docks where the Star sat, this big ship with a massive flying galleon, her decks a gleaming lacquered wood that shined even in the hazy light of the gas lanterns. High above the freshly-swabbed decks a humongous red leather balloon that seemed impossible in size, looming above, urging to break free of its rigging.  

For some reason, I felt drawn to the front- sorry, bow- of the ship, peering out over the edge of the railing. The view from the city was amazing from up there, I could see all the way to Temple Way. I would have stopped to see more, but Badger knew time was short.

"Come on, don't ya know any'fing about a ship, love? Kitchen's back 'ere, below!" he shouted.

"Coming!" I called back, tramping back across the deck.

We found the kitchen easy enough, it was a bit hard to miss, and just so you know, I was only keen on taking only what I needed. I only took for myself the end of a loaf of bread, a small hunk of cheese and some fruit I stashed in my pocket for later. Badger, however, is the one who cleared out the cupboards, sweeping it all up with a long arm and into a huge canvas sack. I would have protested, but at that point, I was so tired and so hungry I couldn't even think of putting up a fight. I would have sat right down there in the middle of the kitchen floor and started eating right then and there, if it weren't for Badge hadn't tugged on my sleeve and nodded towards the door.

We raced back up the stairs and turned to make sure he was was still right behind me, but all I saw was the swallow tails of the back of his jacket going over the railing. I was somewhat concerned until I remembered he snatched a single boot with a feather-falling spell out of a dumpster a few months back.

What was more pressing was why he jumped ship and bailed on me.

I got my answer when I turned back around to meet the familiar click of a flintlock pistol.

"Who are you and why are you on my boat?" the voice at the other end of the barrel asked evenly.

My hands slowly rose in surrender.  

And well, you know the rest.

And that, Mister- I mean Captain Slater, is how I ended up on your ship.
So this is the story for a DnD campaign I'm joining next semester and it's the story of the First Mate of Captain Skip Slater (stripesandshades.deviantart.co….
This story takes place two years before the events of the game, and is the second of hopefully a few more 'Day One' origin stories for various RPG characters.

A few notes:

- I tried to tone down the Cockney accent, I used to be really really bad about this when I wrote them out.

- Yeah, I wrote it in first person, but I'm not sorry about it! There's a good reason, and if you didn't catch it the first time, go back and poke through it again.
       o Yes, that makes this practically the fifth or sixth reference to the video game Bastion.

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