The village was but a collective stewpot of which panic and aversion runneth, and Ashlotte felt an overwhelming darkness bloom within her, rancid petals of a withered floral specimen unfurling. Its putrid roots greedily feeding upon the disquietude of the people, she could feel the loathsome thing metastisizing, growing out of control. As she bore witness to the horrors borne of Queen Valerna and her Illithids, her facial features contorted into a mask of dread, her body momentarily petrified by the paralytic toxins of fear that surged through her veins. Ashlotte's ear captured Queen Valerna's words, which seemed almost lost to the world admist the sounds of chaos ensuing around them. The ravenous slurping of the Illithids' was most unnerving, but beholding the one whom had spied her with great crimson eyes, was something else entirely. Ashlotte's reflection painted upon those eliptical pupils, the peculiar striations of her irises evoked within her the same feelings as if she were engaged in a staring contest with a cobra. Soon Valerna's voice would wash over her like a hyptonic lullaby, her fingers well past the point of breeching one's personal space as to touch her. This woman sought her as a cohort, through willingness or submission. "I am Ashlotte..." She confessed her name, timorously. Suddenly, she suffered a muscular tightening of her jaw which prevented her from betraying anything more about herself. Ashlotte attempted to shy away from Valerna's grasp, raising her dainty hands in such a manner as to fend off any further explorations of her flesh. She could do nothing more for this village in shambles, these unfortunate souls whom were now but in the throes of death. She shook her head softly, her eyes widening as her gaze didn't dare divert from Valerna. Ashlotte's mind entertained her with fragmented visions of fleeing, her flitting footfalls carrying her far away from the scene, hopefully in delivering her to the bosom of safety. Unbeknownst to her, she -was- actually in motion, her feet striking the bloody ground in swift cadence. The rhythm would never cease, as long as she had enough breath in her lungs to push on, as long as she had the desire to live. Would this Queen Valerna sic her Illithid army after her?
Her eyes fluttered open to the feeling of her bedroll being wrenched out from beneath her, Ashlotte mind didn't register the first few moments her being burglarized, her brain still lazy in sleep. "Wha-" She gasped, her eyes widening at the presence of mystery figures in her room. "Take the stuff, this young woman won't be of any trouble to us." A low toned male spoke callously, his eyes narrowing to slits beneath the shade of his hood. "And if she -does- give us trouble, kill her." The second member protested, dropping the bedroll to the floor. "Hey, I never said anything about killing. I want out of this agreement." This individual's voice sounded as if he were but a pubescent, but he was tall for his age. "We will kill her or I will kill -you- then -I- will kill her.Two deaths for the price of one. I don't even need you for these jobs, you know. I don't know why I bother taking you with me. You are nothing but a hinderance!"The callous man hissed, raising his hand to the boy. Ashlotte choked on the youth's fear, startling the two thieves. She then felt sadness envelope her, and her gaze fell upon the elder.
"How could you, you're his father! This boy is being torn apart and I think..." The man's hand descended upon her instead, and she was knocked out cold. "Hurry up, you don't want to catch the plague do you? Who knows how shortened my life has become just by being here, breathing this air. I will wait for you at the roadside." The boy checked Ashlotte's pulse, a small sigh of relief escaping him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have spoken out of line like that, gets him mad. You'd do well to remember that too. Here, isin't much but was saving it for breakfast. He left a bread roll in her limp, cupped hand. When she came to, she devoured it out of instinct, not even giving her palate time to register the taste. It went down with a bit of effort, as she wasn't equipped with a drink or an adequate amount of saliva to help with easier swallowing. She looked about, her voice rose as if she may be heard beyond the walls of the shelter. She spoke with a fervorous determination. "I -will- find out what happened here. I will not leave this place to be damned!" Cries of depair invaded her dreams, her heart laden with sadness as she felt the heartache of loss. More Men, women and children became lost to the world, snatched from existence it seemed by some unknown predatory force. The people that remained had no seeds to sow but those of sorrow, the families left behind were burdened with the utter hopelessness of the situation. Ashlotte sat in the corner of her room for the next three days, feeling the chords of of a most melancholy tune being strummed from within her very soul. When she felt as though the cold eased enough for her to step outside, she rolled up her afghan and made her way from the village, the harshness of winter spared her so far of sickness. She looked back one last time, surveying the village as if she couldn't muster enough confidence in herself that she would be able to save them. Her woeful gaze cast to the heavens, she petitioned to any deity that would listen to the prayers of a mortal that she wished for the people to be relieved of at least some of their hardships in her absence. Did they even care anymore? All she could do is try to embrace the faith she had left.
Ashlotte, presented with the trials of a sorely afflicted village, felt understandably dispirited and shaken in her faith. She was physically and emotionally weakened, and having not eaten or slept in days left her extra weary in her travels. Suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her right side, stealing her breath before knocking her down. Ashlotte gasped for air, failing to suck in enough before she felt the bitter sting of cold upon her flesh. Darkness threatened to cast her in an endless sea of her unconscious mind, she knew someone nearby was close to death. She was fettered by the pain and fear she was sharing with another in some sort of empathic bond, but managed to draw a decent amount of strength from within long enough to reach the boy. She could recognize him as soon as he parted his lips and spoke. "The job... I refused to ..kill anyone." He struggled to breathe a moment before continuing. "I..disobeyed Father again." He was slumped against a tree like a holey sack of flour, a pool of blood staining the freshly fallen snow he sat upon a crimson color. "He..said he would kill me..." She watched in terror as the life in his eyes dimmed, and then finally he was gone. There was nothing for her to do but leave him behind. She did not possess the strength or tools needed to give him a burial, but she was also not naive to the presence of thieves lurking about under the concealing shroud of night. They would find him soon and strip him of his earthly goods. "Not a soul for miles." Ashlotte shook herself awake, releasing a small succession of yawns. She desperately sought to borrow a bit of energy from someone, preferably the rambunctious hyperactivity of a child. She wasn't that picky though, she would easily settle to siphon energy from a person experiencing a caffiene or sugar rush. Just enough to enable her to keep one foot in front of the other, to carry her through to her next destination. Not even a random farmer or traveler. Ashlotte didn't even realize she had stopped moving until she became increasingly aware that her surroundings remained the same. The signs of blight and famine seemed to thrive everywhere, even in regions uninhabitated by people. The remains of dead animals, picked clean by the scavenging sort, were scattered about as if they were a strange adornment for the earthen floor.
The wind howled through the empty husks of trees, making a yearning, whistling tune for rain. What remained of nature seemed to awaken in a ghastly chant then, a forlorn instrumental sent up to the heavens for a long sought revival. She concluded that this was the work of something more than the effects of the bitterest cold. A stronger magick was at play, pestilence itself beckoned by the conjurations of some sinister force. In the distance, almost too far for her eyes to see, she could make out a flickering of flame. Beacons of light directing her toward the gates of a city glittering with riches perhaps? A city much like the one she came from, grand palaces with treasure rooms filled to capacity. Money and power breeding greed and corruption in the hearts of most men, people being slain in the name of the profit of the very King whose likeness is imprinted on every coin. Cut throats roaming the streets of the city, looking for their own personal gain. Ashlotte could recall being born into a family of power and financial means, she had but glimpses of truth to piece together. Loose memories were all she had to work with, mostly formless recollections of her past. She was called Ashlotte, but surely she had a surname! Yet noone she met seemed to recognize her. Her fashion was not a design distinct of any particular geographical area, not one anyone knew of, anyway. She couldn't remember the style of jewelery she used to own, she wouldn't recognize it if someone paraded out in front of her with them on. Perhaps she suffered amnesia at the hands of the bandits or was simply cursed somehow? The city called to her weary mind, her aching body. The wonderful temptations wine and rest pushed her onward, she could almost savor the tastes of generous portioned vittles upon moderately expensive plates. She had no coin, Ashlotte realized. This reminded her of the village, the hunger of the malnutritioned people. Was it really such a sin to desire the comforts of clean linens upon her bed, the perfumes of a hot bath? Meals consisting of meat and the fruits of a farmers labor? The answer was as clear as a crystal wine glass. So what? She would get her fill of eats and rest, and repent later if she had to.
Surely the Gods would listen to her contrition there, a city blessed with those gifts. It would be ungrateful for her -not- to accept those gifts, to say the least. She could no longer continue her journey, succumbing to sleep in the vastitude of a seemingly endless plain. Ashlotte's dreams took her to a vivid landscape of pink flowers surrounding a golden city. The tulips seemed to guard the city as if they were plant-like soldiers, and she saw raggedy clothed people becoming lost within the complexities of a pink painted labyrinth. Couldn't they just walk through them? Make a straight path for the gates? It seemed so easy for the city stood much higher than the flowers, she could see the gates just up ahead. "I'll show you the way.." She called to the people, who were mostly bumbling about. Some of which seemed to let frustration get the better of them, they fell to their knees in a fit of anger and hair-pulling. Others seemed to resign completely, drawing their knees close and cupping their hands over their face in sorrow. The rest of the lot continued their way, with nary a look in her direction. It was like they didn't hear her.
She called to them again, it was futile. They just sort of..wandered, only ceasing when their paths became impeded by other human beings. She started toward the gates herself, hoping that they would soon follow her example. The tulips bloomed all around her, revealing their faces toward the sun. In a blink of an eye it became dark, and rubious eyes sprung up from the blossoms with a menacing glow. A field alive with demonic floral life, the petals became black and shriveled, fanged sneers greeting her at every turn. They hissed and snarled at her, then took up their roots in order to pursue her. The dreadful weeds snapped at her feet as she was running, her boots simply vanishing from her otherwise unprotected feet. She then stopped, turning toward them. This was silly, she was much taller than a bunch of weeds. She wouldn't let them intimidate her any longer. As her hand made its descent upon them in a plucking motion, the petals gleaming like the razor edges of surgical blades, spinning about upon their demonic faces like propellers. She awoke with a start, inspecting every finger to make sure none were harmed in any way. "What a gruesome dream.." Ashlotte's voice shakily strummed her vocal chords, and she shuddered for a while until the thrall of a dreamless rest took her.
"Hey, do you think she's dead? Prolly was a floater, you know. Sun dried her out by now, though." Ashlotte's tea hued gaze searched for the source of such a rude intrusion of her sleep and saw chubby fingers nearing her cheek. She slapped them away, shifting her gaze upward to see that the fingers belonged to a mere child. "She's a kicker, brother." He sounded almost disappointed at first, but shortly after flashed her a toothy grin. "Glad you're okay. We just saw you kinda layin' here, figured you were a scarecrow at first. It's been known for them to blow into the field from the neighboring farms. You see, when you get a rusher like the ones I've seen before, the winds are strong enough to pick up just about anything. Never know what you'll find. That's why we spend our time lookin' around so much." The child's prattling came to a halt as he had become so engrossed in one sided conversation he had forgotten to breathe. "Rickie, get yourself straightened up. You'll wrinkle your pants, and you know how Mother hates that. Father'll tan your hide for sure." The one identified as Rickie stuck his tongue out at his brother, and he turned to Ashlotte and held up nine fingers. "I'm this many, but it doesn't seem like it because our folks are too poor to send me to school. Max's got all the schoolin' but he hates the homework. Takes time away from our hobby, with all the chores he's gotta do. Never seen a dead body though. When we saw you weren't a scarecrow we thought you were a floater. Reckon I'd get the chance to see plenty of death when I get sent away to the military though. Or if our Father dies. He's sick, you know. Isn't enough food for all of us so he goes without mostly. Ashlotte noticed that the two were dressed rather identically, the smaller one almost a doll-like version of the older. The cloth of their pants were dirty with minor tears, the matching suit jackets looked almost too clean, as if they took careful consideration of them to avoid filth or spills. Rickie wore a gray flat cap which seemed a bit too big for his head. "What's your name, anyway?" She blinked a few times, staring at the child as he made his way in what she thought to be the direction of their home. She wondered if the youngster would wave goodbye to her. He did. Finally realizing that Max's question had floated about without a response, she piped up quickly.
"Oh, sorry, my name's Ashlotte." Max nodded. "You don't sound like you're from around here, I can tell that much. So..what are you doing out here, picking posies and realized it was past your bed time or something?" Ashlotte blushed at the compliment. "Oh, I'm not that young, I'm afraid. But I'm just so weary, I've traveled quite far. There is a village that is in dire need of aid, in fact it looks as if the whole stretch of countryside that way is in need. Tried to help all I could, but it's pretty hopeless." Ashlotte viewed Max with doleful eyes. "Oh, you're not supposed to go out yonder..."Rickie came running back, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "Badlands, alot of Burgles and people up to no good there.Rumor has it that plague cleaned out most of the folk, their land plagued also. Stuff don't grow for long, you see. But, you've made it outta there jus' in time, before you met up with the bandits." Ashlotte cringed at the last word he spoke, and Rickie's cerulean gaze flickered this way and that, before noticing how torn and dirty her dress was. "Oh, I guess you had already become 'quainted with them. The Burgles, I mean." Max shook his head, and apologized for his brother. "Sorry for that, Miss. Rickie and I too, had a run-in with them only a few months ago. Went to the forest to pick some berries, and was robbed of everything. Blasted bandits even took the berries. Got away in only our knickers." Max blushed now, embarrassed at such a confession to a stranger of the opposite gender. Several moments passed and the deep reddening of his cheeks seemed to fade just slightly. "Looks like they took the knives out on this one, the burgles showed us their knives too. No bigger than a skinnin' knife but still, could do lot'ta harm to someone."
The talkative child commented, eyeing Ashlotte and then his own kin. "I think you mean -burglars-, Rickie."The boy nodded enthusiastically."Was what I said, Burgles!" Turning his attention once again to the female, he grabbed at her hand in an attempt to help her up.Gritting his teeth and pulling, he let out a grunt and then his palm, slick with perspiration, caused his chubby fingers to slide out of her grasp. He landed upon the tulips, making a child sized area of flattened flowers and grass. Max looked up at the sun, shielding his eyes with his right hand. "Time to go, Rickie. Mother doesn't want us out this late. I've still got my chores and you've got yours." His brother rose and brushed himself off, fearing punishment if his mother were to spot even a single blade of grass on his clothing. "Can't Lotte come along, Max? Mother can feed her half o' my supper, can't just leave her here in the heat and all." Max nodded. "But if Mother doesn't like it, I'll tell her it was your idea. Father doesn't like you taking home strays of any sort, afterall." Ashlotte's brow rose, and her lips parted as if she were going to speak. Suddenly a piercing scream surged up her delicate throat, and she thrashed and rolled about on the ground in such a manner that it seemed she were engulfed by invisible flames. Smoke billowed into the sky a few miles away. "The farm! Rickie, stay with her. I'm going to check on Mother. Certainly Father isn't back from his fishing trip yet..." He took off then, and Rickie ogled Ashlotte with a dumbstruck look upon his cherub like face. "Rickie..."Ashlotte breathed through the pain of another's searing flesh. "I'm sorry but your Mother is gone." She slowly felt alleviated of her torment."Huh? But how would you know? We're not there..yet."
The child began to blubber tearfully, causing Ashlotte's eyes to well up with the salty liquid. Tears flowed down her cheeks. "I cannot sense your brother. I cannot sense Max, yet..." Rickie's sobs eased only enough so he could blurt out a response. "Whaddaya mean, Miss Lotte?" Ashlotte felt panic rising inside of her."No time to explain, lead me to the farm!" Rickie grabbed her hand and pulled her westward. They approached the farm in time to hear Max's cries from the barn. A fallen beam and wall of fire seemed to block his exit. "Had to get the animals..and check if Father was inside. Got myself in a bit of a predicament, though. Max was suprisingly calm although his lower extremities were pinned beneath the impossibly heavy log of wood. "Please..."He whispered, intending for the following message to be for her ears only. "Take him...away from here..hurry.." Ashlotte grabbed Rickie by the forearm, proceeding to forcibly drag him from the premises until she was once again overwhelmed with searing pain of another being burned alive.
Rickie was fast asleep, but Ashlotte was wide eyed. They were in the middle of nowhere, she could not recall which direction the city was. She had run blindly with the child, her feet seemed so swift and light it was as if they had sprouted wings. We couldn't have run -that- far..but still, nothingness all around. How could it be? Her dreams took her back to the burning farm where she watched Max's sable colored hair alight in a flaming crown. "Someone lit my home up on purpose." Ashlotte gazed helplessly, tendrils of sorrow reaching out from her, linking the two of them together. "Don't worry, Mother is with me now. Take good care of Rickie, and find Father. Flames lapped at his flesh and bone, until the morning sun awoke her. "Oh, Rickie.." She began to cry inwardly, and he stirred to the announcing of his name. His collar length auburn mane was entangled with twigs and burrs. He rose with a massive yawn and looked about for his hat. It wasn't loacated on the ground beside him and he hadn't fashioned it into a pillow of sorts. Pudgy fingers quickly sought his head, where they descended upon the apex in a patting motion. "Suppose I lost it, then." His tone possessed a strange calm for a child whom had earlier witnessed the horrors at his farm. Then a smile spread across his face.
"I'll go find some rabbits for trappin'." He chose a direction and bounded off, whistling a happy tune. Ashlotte mirrored his emotion, opting to leave the patch of dirt that had served as their bed to look for a water source. When the sun seemed at its hottest, Rickie came back with disappointment stamped across his face. Wholly unsuccessful in his endeavors, he threw the unappealing but usually effective trap to the side where the most vital parts of it broke on impact, and sat, slumping forward."Couldn't find any rabbits..nothing out there for 'em to eat." Ashlotte sat across from him, her gaze casted up to the sky. "We'll find something soon." She showed him a small smile. "Let's try fishin'!" The child beamed, running off to find branches that would be suitable for making poles. Shrieking filled the air. Ashlotte tossed a glance toward the shoreline, as that was apparently where the sound was originating from. She didn't sense the woman's terror. It seemed more like frustration, turning to anger. Ashlotte started in that direction, soon to see that Rickie beat her there. The woman looked but an anorexic version of the former robust creature which had filled out her clothes so nicely. Now her skinny torso appeared to be swimming in a ridiculously oversized bodice, her legs swallowed whole by a sea of skirts. Ashlotte's heart was like a machine working in overdrive, pumping out adrenaline filled blood that coursed through her veins. She was experiencing rage not her own. The petite female thrusted her fists toward the heavens and opened her mouth to assail the sky above. But..what would she say? She didn't really know what was going on. The woman assumed Ashlotte to be mocking her and rose in a fighting stance, last secondly deciding to shove her aside instead. She connected to the water with a wet splash. "Look around! Surely you can't be completely ignorant to the fact that he eats high on the hog while we are left to starve to death?! The proof is all around you! You are squat in the middle of a sea of dead fish, just look around you!" She followed the woman's angry commands, turning her head so that she could behold the fish stewing in their watery grave. They all seemed to be in differing stages of decomposition, but what was most peculiar to Ashlotte was that the stink of decay hadn't attracted carrion to a meal.
There was no evidence of the ichthyoid corpses being picked at by anything. She could easily recall how the crows attacked her for the bit of bread she had stashed away for herself, the rats upon the cheese. They seemed to be little more than stretched out skin draped over bones. And the crows..if they hadn't moved at all they could have easily been mistaken for a Taxidemist's end product. Nothing more than a morbidly artistic design. Leaving the water she took a mass of soaked fabric in her hands, and attempted to wring it out so the dress wouldn't feel so heavy on her. "Do you know what happened here? I couldn't even dream of something so horrible.." Her words died on her lips as she spied hollow socketed fish floating close to her feet. She knew rot was a natural process after death, that maggots stirred beneath the sun-dried flesh. She couldn't help to feel nauseous, or look upon the carcasses with disgust. Swallowing down the acrid taste of vomit which was rising up her throat, she turned away from the scene. She had to think of Rickie, the poor child must have released his stomach contents upon the ground more than once by now. She spotted him down the way, using a small piece of driftwood on the ground in the manner one would use a gardening tool. After interring the fish in the mud, he reunited with Ashlotte. "I'm fine." He spoke, blinking."Jus' buryin' a fish is all. Livin' on a farm, I have seen the death of much of Father's livestock, it was my job to bury the ones I had enough strength to move." The woman fell silent, seated upon an embankment so that she could overlook the water. Her pale gaze was trance-like, Ashlotte reflected the numbness she was feeling. The spell was broken moments later when Rickie prodded her, causing her gaze to shift and settle upon the red headed child. "What do you want with me, boy?" Asked the woman rudely. "Just leave me be."
Ashlotte walked toward her, her attitude changing to mimic that of Rickie. "Ma'am, you spoke of someone eating high on the hog, and leaving everyone else to starve to death? I am but a foreigner to this land. Could you please explain?" The woman responded without any verbal components, but a stern look. Soon after Ashlotte got the impression that she was preparing to dismiss herself without uttering a single word, but the honey haired female reached out as if to grasp her wrist. "Please if you could just tell me any information..." The woman swatted Ashlotte's hand away. "Look, forget I said anything. The less you know, the safer you'll be. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tend to the housework." She began to shuffle off, a rather forceful gust of wind removing the bonnet from atop her head. This did not stop her though. Ashlotte watched the woman maneuvering toward home, Rickie's boyish voice calling after her as he retrieved her headpiece. "What could we be dealing with? Everyone is so tight-lipped about it, that they would rather ultimately lose their lives to keep the secret." She was speaking more to herself than to Rickie, but the youngest member of the Evan's family inserted his own opinions here and there.
A weary trek lead them to a quaint little abode which appeared to be surrounded by a cage of overgrowth. Their choice to examine it more closely further destroyed their clothing, as the fabrics of their garments became snagged by thorns. They paid in blood as well, receiving scratches to their skin deep enough to scar. Ashlotte wanted rest, and she knew Rickie was hungry. She would forego eating so that the child would get his fill, if it came to it. They approached with caution, not knowing if they were going to be chased away by someone brandishing a weapon, yelling in a most vulgar manner for the trespassers to leave the property or face the consequences.
A small circular window at each side of the door reminded her of eyes. She could feel Rickie's apprehension empowering her own. "I don't think anyone's home." Ashlotte told the child, as she peered in through the right window. "I usually wouldn't think about just barging in, but I can feel the cold nipping at my flesh." She tried the door, a soft push of the wooden plank allowing her inside. Rickie stood at the threshold, having been taught by his parents to never enter a house without permission. "It's going to be dark soon. Why don't you come in and I'll assume full responsibility if we get in trouble." It didn't take very long to coax him, but she could tell that he was feeling rather uneasy about the situation.
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The innards of the house consisted of a fire place, decently crafted table with a trio of chairs, and a bed that smelled of mold. It appeared that the owner could possibly have met his fate, or simply abandoned the hearty home at some point. Ashlotte examined everything, but had little to go on to make any conclusions. Perhaps she was wrong and the owner left for town, and was on his way back? She left Rickie unsupervised to search for linens or blankets. He stepped out into the cold with the intentions of looking about for a source of food, preferably a dense substance like meat.He would later return empty handed, which would in turn make for empty bellies. Four days worth of icy temperatures had them holed up inside a house that did not belong to them, and despite the cracks that allowed for the intrusion of the glacial breeze, they were most grateful to have the protection of a decently sound structure. Rickie dreamt so vividly of a grand feast laid out before him that the smells of cooked turkey and lamb caused for him to salivate, a sticky stream of drool plastering a lock of henna hued hair to his cheek. Ashlotte wrapped the afghan, a possession she obtained back at the village, around her small form and pushed the door open.
She looked upon a virgin snow, blessed by the light of a full moon. Flurries of silverish ice fell upon her as she ventured further out into the darkness, the glint of snowflakes in her hair and on her skin resembling diamond pieces strewn across luxurious silk. Closing her eyes she began to sway to the whispers of a dying breeze, the musics of whatever nature was left around her. "There you are!" Rickie yelled, exhaustion making his voice heavy. "Couldn' find ya, and I was gettin' scared...Burgles have eyes and ears everywhere, you know." Ashlotte beheld the boy, her brow quirking. She didn't know how to reply, but she knew he was right. Even though he was but a child he seemed to possess a wisdom beyond his years. Could the stars themselves really be the greedy glinting eyes of a ruthless den of thieves? What of the snow, a mere ruse to conceal traps and such? The whispering wind a tool of communication, carrying coded messages from one to another upon a gentle air current? Ashlotte's mouth fell open in a gasp, her watery brown eyes darting about. Perhaps there were bandits out there, preparing some sort of ambush. She quickly spun to face the door, and rushed inside. Taking a seat upon the dusty floorboards, her brow level to the sill of a medallion shaped window, she couldn't bring herself to peer through the glass."I'm very afraid." Ashlotte admitted, trembling from both her fear and the cold that seeped in. "Sorry, Miss Lotte. But no need to worry, the rushers will scare away the thieves. They know better than to be wanderin' around out there, all exposed to the elements for long." She eyed him strangely, wondering to what he had coined the term 'rushers.' "Uh rushers. You know, swirlin' winds that have the strength to lift up a house and throw it clear across the land. We've had a problem with much of our crops bein' uprooted, 'tatoes rainin' down into the city. Found 'em floatin' in the water too." Ashlotte stared at him now, her eyes widening. "I've never witnessed something like that myself. But how can a storm cause such destruction, to rob someone's land of their riches whilst another obtains an overabundance of..."She thought for a moment, and added "A cornucopia of agricultural wealth whilst others are left to perish!" Rickie nodded. "'s not all that gets strewn about. Can find just about anything you can imagine if you're lucky enough to stumble upon it." His emerald eyes lit up then. "People say the rushers of of magickal design. Jus' don't know who had made 'em." Rickie shrugged, and cleared his throat." Do you think thieves can use magick?"
His head tilted slightly, his brow furrowed. "I suppose it's possible. Anyone can have magick, have gifts. Though I've also heard of gifts being considered curses as well." Deciding to stray from the subject she added "Look, as soon as we get the chance, we really need to find some food. Something to ease parched throats. We should wait for more favorable weather that hopefully the morning sun will bring." Rickie began to cough, and Ashlotte sensed his scratchy throat. The child was becoming ill, and without the nutrition of a proper meal she knew his chances of getting better was naught. She let out a small sigh, resting the back of her head against the wall. Eyes heavy lidded, she watched the way the wind blew the bare tree branches, silhouettes of great, taloned hands orchestrating the dark heavens.
"Rickie, get up! We're going to venture into town today so don't take too long waking up." Ashlotte tried to make herself look as presentable as she could without the use of such luxuries like a bath and combs for her hair. Perhaps one would let her do odd jobs for a meal for the both of them, and some of the goods she desired like cloth and sewing threads. As they journeyed out of the mostly barren wood, Ashlotte saw a decently constructed town, one that had potential for the shoppes she sought. Rickie appeared dead on his feet, once in a while showing signs of life in the form of a cough or sneeze. She was surprised he could still manage to walk on his own, perhaps hunger fueling him to trudge on behind her. Her eyes watered, skin flushed and feverish as if -she- were experiencing an ail of some sort, but except for hunger and exhaustion she was decently healthy. As they neared the entrance, she was shocked to realize that what she had seen only moments ago was nothing more than a work of deception. An elaborate illusion to fool the outside world. It appeared that the town had been cleansed by fire at one time, a few partially standing structures outlasting the test of time. "Another dead end." Her saddened eyes settling upon Rickie, she knew she couldn't do more to help him. He was to perish, his soul to be freed from the shackles of a living form. Then she heard it. The soft closing of a door. If only she could figure out which direction it came from...She started at the beginning, trying the doors of any complete house she came across. Nothing. No life stirred behind those wooden walls, behind the heavy doors. And then she felt it. Felt the fear gripping her heart, quickening her breath. "P-please.." Ashlotte stammered through the paralyzation of throat muscles. "Th- the child..w-will die.." She sensed nothing at first, then a mustering of courage bringing someone to the door. "Come in, hurry." She ushered Ashlotte and Rickie inside, and shut out the wind. "I was just about to put some tea on the fire, and I have enough bread and cheese to share. Do sit down, will you?"
Ashlotte took the child's coat and aided him to the chair nearest to the fireplace, thanking the elderly woman for her kindness. "Please, call me Chamomile. My name and favorite tea." Ashlotte nodded. "I'm Ashlotte and he is Rickie." The woman offered a warm smile. "Is he..your son?" She shook her head." We're of no relation. His.." She continued in a whisper "His mother and brother died in a fire, we haven't located the father as of yet." Chamomile's hand went to her heart. "The poor dear!" Her voice came out louder than she wished, causing her to quickly fall silent. Her hearing concentrated on the sounds of outside, she waited a moment with baited breath as if anticipating something consequential to her outburst. "I'm terribly sorry for your misfortunes, child." She spoke in hushed tones now, removing the heated kettle from the fire. threads of silver fell from the sides of her bonnet, and instead of simply tucking the hairs back under it, she plucked the headpiece from her scalp. The skeletal-like figure then sat in her rocking chair, a simple knitted shawl draped about her shoulders. The color of it brought a rosy blush to the woman's ashen skin tone, summoning life to her sickly pallor. "What happened here?" Ashlotte dared to ask, although she was prepared to receive the same response she had gotten other times she had asked that question. "It is best not to speak of it, dear." Chamomile observed the disappointment on Ashlotte's face, as the young female was unsatisfied with the lack of information.
"I can offer only a little, to speak of it more will seal my fate." Rickie managed to finish his meal through the sneezing and snuffles, and Ashlotte waited patiently while sipping her tea."A long time ago this town thrived, like many others. It was a new colony, of which my family was one of the first settlers. I could still remember my mother and father, my two sisters. It was quickly built up, the rubble you see today is proof of how this town once bustled with life. We were rich, rich in ores and soil. I have seen the glittering of profit, coins of gold and silver. Something evil began to grow. The people reaped what they sowed, and greed spread throughout the town like a plague. Men turned on one another, their blood spilled upon the once pure soil. It is an everlasting curse." Her pale gray eyes danced across the fire, before turning her attention to her guests. "As you can understand, once evil blood touches something pure, it begins to corrupt it. It is a vital factor growing the seeds of revenge, of hate. The town was to be cleansed by fire, and we understood that. We were prepared to leave our home. But...something wouldn't let us leave. We tried and tried, but we couldn't! So greed continued to spread rampant, a wholly uncontrollable force made of man. The people here destroyed themselves before the land could be purified." Ashlotte regarded Chamomile solemnly, before a downward look brought her to her tea. Rickie was fast asleep with his head on the table, clutching the last bite of bread close as if it were a comforting toy. "Do you think this has spread beyond the town?" Chamomile nodded. "Of course. Men are but vessels of sin and corruption. Our desires, temptations are our downfall. Of course other things are at work as well, but I will speak no further on the subject."
The frail woman rose, turning in the direction of her bed. "I apologize for not having better accommodations, but I never thought I'd have overnight company. There is a tub to wash in, I will heat some water for you. I have enough blankets for you to make an adequate bed on the floor. I also have some fabrics and thread you can have to do what you wish." She sat upon her bed, quickly falling into sleep. Ashlotte took the kettle once it was heated, and a candle to light her way to the bath. She hadn't bathed in so long that the hot water seemed to sting her skin at first, but she persisted through the discomfort for the first few moments so that it could soothe her aching muscles.Layers of filth dissolved away, and the soft scent of lavender filled the room. She would wake the boy in the morning so that he may also bathe. Once she was finished and skin dried, she dressed in the same pitiful garment she had wore for so long and retired for the night after draping her afghan over Rickie. "Morning!" She was awaken by the cheerful greeting, spoken by the bright eyed boy. "Feelin' better today, Miss Chamomile gave me some medicine. Was strong stuff too, that peppermint tea, but it did the trick." Ashlotte's eyes came into focus to see him standing in the doorway. "You'll take a bath, after breakfast. Wash away your ails." Rickie nodded in agreement and then he was off toward the table. "Miss Chamomile's makin' eggs this morn'. Said she'd be back in a bit. Ashlotte took a seat beside him.
Enough light permeated the small home so that she could take a look around. The innards were rotted, with decaying curtains dressing the windows. The floorboards seemed to give with little force, slivers of moldy wood piercing her unshod toes. Chamomile's belongings were destroyed with age. The walls were but a singed and sooty shell around them. Ashlotte rose, feeling the floor spinning beneath her feet. Did they break bread with a ghost the night before? Preposterous. There must be some sort of logical explanation. Perhaps it was all but a hunger induced hallucination. But Rickie told her she spoke to him this morning! And then she saw it. Upon the bed, the charred remains of Chamomile. The fabrics that the old woman promised her lay undamaged at the foot of the bed. The blankets she had wrapped herself in the night before? She ran to the room and her mouth dropped open in terror. The goose down quilt her body was enveloped in was totally unrecognizable as was the tub she had bathed in. She couldn't have imagined all of this so vividly..the taste of tea, the floral scent she used to perfume her bath. "We...have to go." She uttered, taking Rickie by the hand and gathering their belongings. "But Miss Chamomile 'll be back soon and it's rude to leave 'fore sayin' goodbye, Miss Lotte!" He protested, being dragged out the door. "It's not rude if she is not coming back!"
Ashlotte groaned, making a beeline out of the town. "Don't you see? She's dead! She died in the fire..."Rickie tried to relieve his hand of her grasp, but he couldn't escape her clutches. "Miss Lotte! She isn't dead, spoke to me this morn'! Said she was going to get some eggs from the market!" This made her stop pulling him about like a maniac. "The market, you say? She turned toward the singly erected plank of wood, the market sign swaying to and fro upon a rusted chain. "I don't think this place has sold eggs in quite some time, Rickie." Fear took a hold of the child, leaving him to tremble upon his feet. "Do you think the spook'll come after us, Miss Lotte?" She patted his head, choosing to reassure him although she wasn't certain of the answer herself. "I don't think she meant to harm us or anything. I fear that we would have perished in the snow without her.."After some hesitation, Rickie nodded. "But supper and tea, they were real..." She only now realized how far they had been walking, and how long. "I cannot explain, but we're fed and rested and that's all that counts now." Ashlotte heard the child's steps come to a halt." Oh, I don' like this, Miss Lotte. Air has changed. Storm's brewin'." He was quite nervous now, eying the formation of clouds, darkness unfurling across the sky. "Gotta get somewhere fast." He spoke, looking upon the shaded earth. Ashlotte's turned to find that nothingness now stood in place of the ruined town. "Huh?" She gasped, utterly confused. Not even a trace of scorched land remained.
Ashlotte's mind was plagued with thoughts of Queen Valerna, however fetching a countenance the woman possessed. The quick, upward twist of her full lips, her ample bosom. Her flawless, toned body. Something was off about her though, her strange pallor, her fanged mouth. They weren't traits of a lively human being, and especially her -eyes.- Her governing word over the Illithids. if she were merely a peculairly complected human being, those foul creatures would have devoured her a long time ago, instead of calling her their Queen. What was she really? Ashlotte couldn't help to ponder if she should have lingered in her presence for a few moments longer, instead of opting for a hasty retreat. Death, destruction, and even apparitions were but a common occurrence anymore, it seemed. She sighed, turning in what she assumed to be the direction of that very village of their encounter. She knew that someday, somehow, they would meet again. But was this woman truly responsible for the havoc wrought throughout the land?
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The wind began to blow with such a ferocity that it could rip flesh from bone, the unseen fingers of a forceful storm pulling their hair, grasping their clothing. She heard a tearing of fabric as the already worn threads gave way to the wrath of nature. The icy air stole their breath, leaving them huddled close in an attempt to withstand the elements. We're going to die out here, to be buried beneath the snow. They would have to wait until the warmth of spring to reveal the secret of such a demise. Then, the swift galloping of horses broke through her thoughts, and she figured that death was coming to reap their souls. She whispered a prayer upon soft, trembling lips. "Does life flow through you?"
The man yelled against the raging gale, his own words thrown back into his face. Ashlotte did not fear this man, but the child did. Dismounting the carriage, the man started toward the female, his hand extending as if to aid her to rise. His black cloak concealing the funeral attire he wore. "You have a bit of snow, Miss. " He spoke gently, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "Uh.." She eyed him strangely, the subtle movements of her head causing a small mountain of snow to come tumbling down from her hair. "Yes. Thank you." Ashlotte swiped a few times at the apex of her wavy locks, dislodging the more stubborn flakes. She took his hand then, and Rickie eyed the man with suspicion. "It's Ashlotte, by the way. "she looked to the man, his horses. "Who might you be?" Rickie rose, staying close to Ashlotte. "I'm Andor. Was on my way home from a funeral, saw you two here." Ashlotte became saddened. "A funeral? Oh, I'm terribly sorry." They were soon on their way to the steady trod of hoof beats. "They buried the last of my kin yesterday." Andor told her, the carriage slowing. "Close to town now. Should arrive in another half hour." Rickie's emerald eyes were peeled the whole time, for upon their meeting Ashlotte sensed his distrust in the man. "Has there been any strange...disappearances?" She asked, expecting the same tight lipped response from Andor. "Not that I know. Once in a while there's some peculiar rumors swirling about in the tavern, but you know how that is. Drunkards seem to have quite the imagination." He chuckled some. "Ah. Here we are." The carriage came to a stop and they were aided out of the buggy. "Please, do go in and make yourselves at home. I have to water the horses and tie them up for the night. Will be back in a few." Ashlotte pushed the door in with caution, as her senses were fooled before by a most realistic appearing illusion. She smelled the scent of pine and saw a basket of blushing apples upon the table. "Help yourself.." Andor spoke, shutting them inside. "Made it back just in time. Starting to sleet out there. I don't know how some of these people could call the cold invigorating. Got to be a little touched in the head to go dancing out there in a snow storm, I figure." He got some wood from his indoor stock and started a fire, muttering about how depleted the pile was getting.
"Pile like this should've lasted all winter long. Always used to. Now it's only a few months in and I have to chop some more." Rickie sat at the table, chomping an apple. "So, Mister Andor.." He started in between chews "Are you a spook or what?" Andor was so suprised at the child's question that he dropped an exceptionally heavy log of pine on his toes, announcing his pain in a yelp."I don't think so, anyway. I did visit a funeral yesterday but it wasn't my own." The house was filled with the warmth of the fire, and rabbit stew was cooking in the cauldron. "Does the boy have a name?" Rickie shot him a look as if he had been insulted, but Andor only grinned."Rickie." The autumn hued child spoke curtly, almost slamming down the remains of his apple. "Kid doesn't like me much, does he?" The question was asked loud enough for Rickie to hear, perhaps intending for him to feel guilty about it. "No, can say I don', Mister Andor. I don' like 'ticians very much." The man understood. "I'm a mortician. Tis my job, son. I also specialize in a unique hobby. Making..as you say...mobile homes." Ashlotte's brow rose questioningly. "What are these..mobile homes?" She would never recieve an answer to this most curious query, as her focus upon the male seemed to fade, and a vivid depiction of Queen Valerna's face filled her mind. "Uh, Andor....can you watch over Rickie for me? I must clear my head for a while..."She wouldn't hesitate in starting for the door, leaving both the kindly mortician and the boy to stare at one another in an awkward silence. "I must...continue on alone..."She said, almost as if under a hypnotic beckon.