» Your life is not a disaster, Faerra

[Faerra Críwen]

Faerra had no idea what had gotten into the young boy. One minute he was a block behind her, the next he was far ahead of her, legs pumping like ramrod pistons. She had no idea what had caused such a reaction. One thing she was sure of, though: Alexander was flying. She had never seen someone that small run so fast, she was quite certain none of her brothers and sisters could run that fast.

The young gypsy broke into a run behind her friend. "Alexander! Wait up!" she called as she tried to catch him. Ugh, I do not like this running thing, she thought. Her body was built for agility tricks, not for running sprees, be they long-distance or short. She wondered how on earth Alexander could go so quickly. Her bare feet were skimming across the cobblestones, yet she still was far behind him.

He stopped at the next intersection, turning to wait for her. Fae came to a stop beside her friend, panting. Yet even in her breathlessness, a joke was not far from her tongue. "You know, I think you missed the 'catch me' part of 'catch me'," she teased, cheeks flushed from her exertion. Reaching a hand up, Fae pushed her cloth bandana back from her forehead. "Whew, you sure can run," she told Alexander. "Ever thought of being a Runner as a part-time job? You know, to get some extra coppers here and there."

She looked around, trying to get her bearings. Lighting up as she recognized the street, Fae asked, "Doesn't this lead to Marketbridge?" Her hazel eyes sparkled as a new thought came to her. "Let's go down to the River and see what's happening down there." The "happenings" could be anything, really. Anything from seeing a stray cat by the water to watching a brawl could be a "happening". "Are you good at skipping stones?" she asked as she trotted in the direction of the bridge.

[Alexander of Naxen]

"You know, I think you missed the 'catch me' part of 'catch me'."

Alexander glanced up at her and shook his head. “No I didn’t,” he said softly. “It’s a… challenge.” Challenges, in his experience, were people’s way of saying they thought he was incompetent and wanted to show everyone else that they were right. He did not know why this woman he barely knew wanted to do that, but he would not let her. ‘Catch me’ implied that he would not be able to catch her; he had caught up to her and then some.

“Anyway I shouldn’t have a part-time job. It would never work with all the time I spend training, and besides, what sort of reflection would that cast on my family?” Alexander had not fully assimilated into the nobility; he doubted he ever would. A proper noble did not spend his first five years as nothing more than a serving woman’s bastard, and if assimilating meant forgetting his mama, Alexander did not want to assimilate. Even so, he knew that much. Plenty of noblemen held jobs, but what would folk say about a nobleman whose twelve-year-old son worked as a runner?

Alexander realized another reason he did not need to work as a runner, and it made him feel strange: he did not need to extra coppers. He was fed, clothed and housed. Other than sweets and, occasionally, marbles – perhaps Alexander’s greatest weakness – he had no cause to buy anything.

“What? Oh, no. This is Kingsbridge; Market Bridge is that way,” Alexander explained, pointing in the direction of Market Bridge. “But that’s the Lower City. I’m meant to stay out of the Lower City.” Guardswoman Vaughn had been very clear on that point, and Alexander knew better than to take her words lightly. She might look human, but she had molten steel in her veins. “And no, miss. I can skip stones about once,” which was Alexander’s way of saying he could throw a stone into the river and it would sink.

[Faerra Críwen]

"No I didn't. It's a... challenge." The soft response made the young woman cock her head and look closer at the small boy. For some reason, she had a feeling that his definition of "challenge" differed drastically with hers. Faerra looked her friend up and down. She now knew why he seemed so different from her brother who was his age. Alexander wasn't happy. Ciaran was. Well, maybe Alexander was happy sometimes, but it appeared to be a rare happening. He seemed to be constantly on the defense, as if everyone were trying to prove him wrong. "You know, sometimes games are just that. Games," Fae told the boy. "Not everyone's going to try to prove themselves better than you, Alexander. Some people just want to have fun."

When he corrected her about where they were, she shrugged. "Ah well. I was close, wasn't I?" “But that’s the Lower City. I’m meant to stay out of the Lower City.” Fae glanced at him askance, eyes twinkling mischievously. She had it in mind to say they should go in it anyway for the thrill of it, but something made her keep her mouth shut. For some reason, she could just tell that nothing would sway Alexander from disobeying whoever or whatever had told him that. “And no, miss. I can skip stones about once,” he added.

"Okay then," Fae said agreeably. "No stone skipping then. Hmmm..." she looked about her, at a loss for what to do. "You know this city better than me," she told the boy. "Where would be a fun place to..." Her voice trailed off as the ever wandering eyes of the gypsy caught sight of something interesting. There appeared to be a mass of people gathering down the street a little ways, calling to one another and shouting quite loudly. "Let's go see what that is over there," she said to Alexander, pointing. Grabbing his hand---she didn't even think about it she was so used to doing it with her little siblings---she towed Alexander towards the crowd. Another street performer, perhaps? A musician? Who knew?

It was not any of those things, she discovered as they drew near. The shouting wasn't pleased exclamations, there was an angry and intense feeling as it became apparent that the crowd was egging someone on and placing bets. There apparently was a fight going in the center of the crowd. "Follow me," Fae told the boy, before wriggling into the crowd. Squeezing herself between the rows of men and women packed close-together, Faerra popped out to the front. There was a tangle of arms and legs in the center, with two young men fighting so furiously with one another that it was impossible to tell who was who. One lunged and gripped the other's sleeve in his fist, tearing it. The young woman caught a glimpse of a brown tattoo and her feet felt like they had grown two foot deep roots in about two seconds. "Flynn!" she cried, horrified. She turned to Alexander, before realizing that he had not yet made it to her side. "Alexander!" she called, standing up tiptoes to search the crowd.

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander looked at Faerra. She may as well have told him flowers grew from the sky and fish ate cats. Perhaps that was true in her world, that games were just for fun. Where Alexander came from, it mattered how fast you could run, how accurately you could shoot, and there was no game under the sun that did not test some kind of skill. And the only people who were not trying to prove themselves better than Alexander had already decided that they were.

Her expression was easy enough for him to read. Plenty of his year-mates were the same; Alexander did it, too. Tell him not to touch something and his fingers would itch like they were bitten all over by fleas. But unlike most of his year-mates, Faerra seemed like one whom Mithros Himself would not stop once she had her mind set, and she would be keeping him close. “I was lost there before. A guardswoman helped me find my way back… she…” Alexander bit his lip, thinking for a moment. “I think if I were in trouble she would help me, but if I venture into the Lower City without very good reason… I gave my word I wouldn’t do that.”

Giving his word was enough for Alexander, like a contract in binding magic. He said he would stay out of the Lower City, but he did not know what he would do if Faerra went in. He was following her…

Then the thought fled his mind as Faerra pulled Alexander into some sort of commotion. He had never been in this type of situation before; what should he do? A full knight would stand up and make peace, but Alexander was only a page, a small boy. He was almost relieved when Faerra found him again and tugged him out of the crowd. Alexander was not sure just what was happening, but he understood when the people around him went from observers to fighters. He could no more stop this than he could turn back the tide; Alexander weaved through the crowd, having no better idea than to get to safety. More than once he had to duck or stomp someone’s foot, and he caught an elbow under his eye. It was not a particularly bad injury, considering, but it did hurt.

When Faerra grabbed his wrist, Alexander stiffened, but when he saw that she was no stranger he relaxed and let her take the lead.

((The title of this thread has become rather ironic!))

[Faerra Críwen]

((Haha, that it has. XD))

At the sound of his sister's voice, Flynn twisted around to search for his sister. He suddenly doubled over with a grunt as a hard-thrown punch landed in his gut. The young woman clapped her hands over her mouth, that looked like it had hurt. Her brother turned back into his attacker with a roar, his broad shoulder ramming into the man's chest and throwing him into the other side of the crowd. The first row of spectators went down, bowled over by the unexpected weight. There was an angry growl from the crumpled forms of the people which turned into vehement shouts. Blows were traded and people were trampled as the crowd turned into a seething mob. Flynn ran to his sister's side, catching her hand. "Come on!" he cried, pulling her away from the violent thrashings of the people.

"Wait!" Fae cried, scanning the crowd for her young friend. She dearly hoped he had not fallen, he doubtless would be trampled. The young woman caught sight of a head of blond curls fighting desperately against the surge of the crowd and she lunged towards it, pulling her brother after her. "Alexander!" she cried, catching hold of his hand again. "Let's get out of here." That was much easier said than done, as all three soon discovered.

Rage and violence progressed through the crowd like a wildfire. It rippled through the people till they were consumed. Many of them didn't even know why they were fighting or who they were fighting, all they knew was that they had to win. Rows and rows of people surged into one another, pushing and shoving and trampling to get closer to the surging mob in the center. For Flynn, Faerra, and Alexander---who were valiantly attempting to go the opposite way of the crowd and get out of the mess---it became a dangerous game of duck-and-weave.

It may have been dangerous... but it was fun.

Faerra's eyes flashed; she was in her element. Every fiber in the body had to be alert for a wayward kick or punch. Hands grabbed at her clothing, booted feet trampled her toes. But she loved it. The wildness of it all; the way instinct just seemed to take over the people. They forgot they were clawing at their neighbor's face; everything was boiled down to a basic sense of survival as the people either tried to fight their way to safety or fight their way to the center. Flynn bowled his way through the crowd, knocking people left and right. His younger sister followed in his footsteps, taking advantage of the space Flynn provided. Alexander was pulled after her. Fae tried to (surreptitiously) make sure that nothing too bad happened to the small boy. However she did not make her protection blatantly obvious. If she saw a blow coming, she pulled him along just a little faster. Of course, his safety was not all due to her. As a page, he probably was used to this sort of thing and so he ducked at exactly the right moments. There was one moment when Flynn went a little too fast and Fae turned to keep track of her brother. She looked back at Alexander just in time to see an elbow clip him on the cheekbone. Ouch.

There was a surge, a heave, and out the three popped into the open street. Flynn reached for his sister's hand, and the two ran across the street to a nearby alley, narrowly avoiding the Dogs who were running up the street and blowing their whistles. The three huddled behind an abandoned crate, breathing hard. When their gasps had quieted, the two Críwens looked at each other and in the same moment said, "You idiot." There was a pause. Then the brother and sister burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, trying vainly to smother the sounds.

When Fae had regained control of herself, she turned to Alexander, her eyes sparkling---whether with the excitement or tears of laughter it was hard to tell. "Wasn't that fun?" she cried, still giggling a little. "Oh, Alexander, this is my brother, Flynn. Flynn, this is Alexander."

"Pleased to meet you," the young man said, offering his hand.

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander stared at the two when they began to laugh. He had known Faerra did not see the world as most people did, that was obvious. Until now she had fascinated him and made him a little nervous. But now, she really frightened him. She had drawn him into a dangerous situation, one which her own brother had caused. She was dangerous. Alexander hated what this day had become; he wanted to go back to the Palace; why couldn’t he have earned punishment duty and had to stay there?

Alexander bit his nails nervously. “Pleased to meet you, too,” he murmured emptily, shaking Flynn’s hand. ‘Brother’ was not much of a compliment in Alexander’s experience, not in its literal meaning. Brother-in-arms, yes, that meant everything, but sharing blood… well, so what?

He went to look over the crate to see if he could leave. No such luck. The commotion barred his way, and the other end of the alley was closed off by a wall. What had he gotten into?! Alexander should have taken the lead. He would have known better than to hide in a place like this; he had learned at least that much in his classes.

This just… was just so miserable. It was supposed to be a good day. All he wanted was to go to the sweetshop and for once not have to worry about fighting. Goddess, Mithros, don’t let me die here! Alexander scooted back against the wall and hugged his knees to his chest. He was trapped in a dingy alley with two crazy people. Great. Apparently being caught in the middle of a riot was hilarious.

He glanced at Faerra. Already Alexander heard her words in his head. She would tell him it was fun, just another adventure. The thought made him want to cry and made him want his mother. Alexander knew better than to let those emotions get the best of him. He would just have to wait this out patiently. Soon enough, as with all things, it would pass.

[Faerra Críwen]

There was something in Alexander's voice when he shook her brother's hand and murmured, "Pleased to meet you, too," that caught Fae's attention. His voice sounded so small and he suddenly looked so small, completely dwarfed by the older Críwen. The way Alexander looked at her, before scootching himself away from the two siblings as far away as he could get---after peering over the crate. It struck Fae, as she looked at the small boy huddled in as small a ball as he could make himself---that he was afraid. He wanted to leave. She opened her mouth to say something to maybe comfort him---perhaps make light of the situation or crack a joke or some such thing---when Alexander glanced at her. The look in his eyes dropped her belly into her toes. Her mouth shut without a word.

Alexander wasn't just afraid of the brawl. He was afraid of her. There was no question about it. The fearful look in his eyes, the way he had looked at her before his eyes had skittered off of her to his feet told her for certain. And she knew why. Try as she could, Faerra just wasn't normal. None of the Críwens truly were. Mayhap that was what happened when you made your living performing, mayhap that was what happened when you never stayed in one place long enough to create friends outside of your own family. Whatever the reason, Fae was different. She knew it. She tried to fit in so as to make friends but they always sniffed her out sooner or later. "Childish" and "silly" they called her, but that was just Faerra being herself. But somehow, she knew people didn't like her being herself. Her simplistic view of life grated on their nerves. So Fae tried hard to hide her true self deep within her. As much as she loved her family, she wanted friends. Friends whose last names did not end with the word Críwen. When she had come to Corus, the young woman had decided that she would start afresh. She would make friends being who she was! People could love her being herself, couldn't they? Besides, this was Corus! This was the capital of all Tortall! People had to be different and more accepting here, hadn't they? She had been so thrilled to find a friend in Alexander, he seemed to be the sort of lad who enjoyed taking a break from life and just being himself.

Apparently she was wrong. Not only did he knew view her as a friend as she had thought, but she scared him. Look at the young boy, huddled against the wall. He clearly wanted nothing more than to get away from her and go home to the Palace where he spent his days with normal people. Why couldn't she fit in? Why couldn't people love her the way she was? Why was she so goddamn different?

Faerra peered over the edge of the crate into the street. Was it clearing up? Nope. If anything, it looked wilder than before, with the arrival of the Dogs who fought valiantly to break up the mob and regain order. She slumped, sighing. Her previous good mood had vanished, for she could only think of how miserable Alexander must be. He had set out to have a good day---stop by the sweet shop and watch a show---and now he was trapped in a dark alley with two crazy strangers and a mob outside.

Flynn nudged her, he seemed to have sensed her sudden change in mood. She met his concerned eyes---hazel, like her own---for a moment, before looking down at her skirts. "I guess we can tell stories," her brother said haltingly, for the atmosphere had suddenly become quite awkward. "To pass the time. It looks as if we'll be here awhile."

Faerra nodded. "I'll go first," she volunteered. Tilting her head to one side, she thought hard about a story. It had to be a good one. For Alexander's sake. For normality's sake. Maybe, if she told a good story--the right one---he would see that she wasn't some sort of crazy gypsy. "Well..." she paused. "I remember this one time when we were performing a show in Tusaine. I was... six, maybe? Anyway, everyone was packing up and leaving, but I saw this dog." Fae sighed in remembrance. "It was so cute and brown. It had scruffy paws and these big eyes and a white patch on it's eye. I just had to pet it. So I went to it but it ran away---it must have been a stray---and so I followed it. I don't know how long I ran after it, but when I eventually gave up, I was lost. It was growing dark and cold, and I had no idea where my family was. I was so afraid that they had forgotten about me and left me behind. I ran and ran and ran but it seemed like I was running in circles. I kept falling and scraping my elbows and palms, but I was so frightened of being left behind I didn't care." Just the memory of that day made Faerra frightened. She shuddered, her fingers gripping the brightly colored cloth of her skirts. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "It was fully dark by the time I bumped into this shadow in the dark. I screamed but it was only Bror---my oldest brother," she explained for Alexander's benefit. "He hugged me and then picked me up and carried me all the way back to the caravan. I never was so happy to be scolded by mother for muddying up my skirts." The young woman looked around. "Someone else's turn, now."

This post has been edited by Faerra Críwen on Nov 7 2009, 09:19 PM

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander looked to Flynn in surprise. Tell stories? No one he knew told stories unprompted, but Alexander liked the idea. He liked stories. He certainly enjoyed Faerra’s, a nice simple story with a happy ending. It left Alexander smiling. He had especially enjoyed the part where her brother came and hugged her, and everything was all right.

When he realized it was his turn to tell a story, though, Alexander’s smile faded. Perhaps he could have made up a story. He did not often try, but he was sure he could put something together – something not unlike Faerra’s story, with a small challenge and a happy ending. He thought for a moment. All he could think to make up was a story about him ending up going home to the Palace at the end of today. That was out of the question, though; it would upset Faerra if he told that story. He was not sure he particularly liked Faerra, but he did not want to upset her.

Instead, Alexander told a true story. He just lied about it. “Once upon a time,” he began. His mouth suddenly felt very dry, and he licked his lips nervously. “Once upon a time, there lived a little boy. He lived in Corus,” he added. Unlike the Criwens, Alexander had never been out of Tortall. He had no exciting setting for his tale – no, he realized, he did. It was just within Tortall. “In fact, he lived in the Palace, a place full of nobles who wore warm clothes and never went to bed hungry because they had so much good food to eat. There were beautiful gardens and sweet pets like horses. And falcons,” he added, remembering Naylan and Pan. “It was a wonderful, wonderful place to be a noble.

“The little boy saw all of that, but he wasn’t a noble. He lived in a little room with his mama, who mostly washed dishes in the Palace kitchens. They shared the room with another woman and a married couple, but I can’t remember what they did.” He felt a little ashamed of himself, but in truth those three people had not been close with his mother; she was a somewhat cantankerous, proud young woman. “Even though they were servants, the little boy’s mother told him to be proud and to be good. She taught him to obey, too, which was good because as soon as the boy was old enough to run around by himself, nobles would give him orders. Some were nice, and overlooked him or ruffled his hair and said he was a cute child. And some were not so nice, and he didn’t like them.

“The little boy tried to be happy. When he was upset, his mama got upset with him. When he cried, sometimes she would hug him, but sometimes she yelled at him and sometimes she got upset herself. He wanted his mama to love him and be happy, so he tried to smile all the time, even when he was sick and when he had fleas in his hair and clothes and itched all over. That was fairly normal for him; he did not know some people did not have fleabites. He thought the nobles were just strong enough not to scratch. Mostly he really was happy.

“He was only a child, though,” Alexander continued, something he had only lately come to understand. “He was too young to know how much in life he missed out on, that there were lots of things he could wish for more than food when he was hungry or a chance to ride one of the pretty horses. There was education and circumstance. Then one day, his mother brought a man to meet him. The little boy didn’t know the man, nor did he understand what his mother was saying to him. After a while, she hugged him and kissed his forehead and told him she loved him. Then she told him that the man was his father, and was going to take care of him from now on.

“Later the boy learned that he really was the man’s son, and the man was a lord from an old, respected noble family, and he was a noble, too. He got to learn how to read and write, and he got to ride horses. He didn’t have to go to bed hungry, either. Though he did have to wear shoes. But the best part was that now he had a real family with a brother and sisters and everything.” For most of his story Alexander had been looking at his feet. Now he raised his eyes and looked at the siblings, hoping they understood that the story ended there. If he continued, it would be sad again – the brother and stepmother who hated him, Denise being disowned. He liked it better this way, with the happy ending.

[Faerra Críwen]

((Soo... are we cuing Alfie to bring Maxxie in or did we decide not to? I kind of had to leave in the middle of that discusion. =P))

Fae listened to the story in silence. She was not a simpleton. At first she had thought that the story told would've been one made up (why tell two people whom you thought were insane personal stories about yourself?); something conjured just to pass the time. She thought that until she heard, "They shared the room with another woman and a married couple, but I can’t remember what they did.” Ah. Faerra began listening with renewed interest. It was a sweet story, one that told of a boy who was happy despite his station. The young woman was pleased to note that it stopped at a happy part, but something told her that that was just Part One. There was a yet untold part of the story... and somehow Fae did not feel that it would be an equally happy one. Yet she liked where Alexander stopped it and she smiled to tell him so. Not the bright, enthusiastic grin that had never seemed to leave her lips, but a softer smile. A gentler smile.

Flynn shifted. "I guess it's my turn now," he said quietly. Taking a leaf out of Alexander's book, the young man began: "Once upon a time there was a young man, who was a part of a large family." His sister glanced at him, slightly amused. "And one day, the family decided to visit Corus. The young man was very excited because he had never been to the capital city before. After a show, he was walking along, enjoying the scenery. Then someone came up behind and pushed him. Hard. They laughed at him, said he and his family were too poor and lazy to make a living like honest people so we stole money from other's with our games. They had been to the show before, several times. He could recognize their faces. They started..." Flynn shifted, his eyes flicking from his sister's face, to the strange boy whom he did not know, to his bare feet. "They started making... comments... about his sisters. Said that they were no better than doxies."

Fae's cheeks flushed red and her eyes became riveted to her skirts as her brother continued. "So he fought back. It wasn't true. The had no cause to talk that way. Besides, he was sick and tired of being slighted and slandered just because he was a gypsy. People said he and his family cheated them and were the bastards of society. Outcasts. He couldn't take it anymore. So he fought back."

Faerra's eyes closed as though she were in pain. Situations arose like this wherever they went. Wherever they drew a crowd there were bound to be some people made angry by the performers. She drew a deep breath and exhaled it silently. When would people get over their stupid prejudice? She opened her eyes to look at her brother, who was gazing at her anxiously. "Your story did not have a happy ending," she told him.

"Of course it did. I won," Flynn grinned. Rolling her eyes, Fae looked up over the crate. She heaved a gusty sigh as she flopped back down. "Ugh, they're still out there." There was a moment's silence as the three sat together in silence, listening to the shouts and whistle blows from outside the relative safety of their alley. "I have a riddle," Fae announced, when she judged the silence to be getting wearisome. "See if you can guess it," she said to both her companions. "What am I---" Flynn began to interrupt but she slapped him smartly on the leg. "Shush," she commanded austerely, before resuming. "What am I? I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying in the clouds. I give birth to tears of mourning to eyes that meet me, but there is no cause of mourning. At the moment of my birth I dissolve into air. What am I?" She turned her eyes from her brother---who was staring into space with a furrowed brow---to Alexander. Could he guess the riddle?

[Alexander of Naxen]

((I think we decided Maxxie wasn't coming in...? He always can later, though.))

Alexander did not like Flynn’s story. He knew almost immediately that it was a story about Flynn himself, though it took him a while longer to realize it was the story of how they all ended up here. At first he was not sure he was being mocked. Flynn was as difficult to read as his sister was; Alexander could not begin to guess Faerra’s thoughts beyond that everything was fun. By then he was sure Flynn was laughing at him. Perhaps Alexander’s ruse had been easily seen through, but there were things he preferred not to acknowledge as his own past, things that were better as stories. Being the spineless half-breed with a dead mother was bad enough when those were just words. When they became actual memories, it hurt too much to be real.

Alexander kept biting at his nails. One of his cuticles began to bleed. He wanted to go home already! He wanted… well, there was no one to comfort him, really. His mother was dead; Denise might show him kindness, but he had no way of contacting her; and Tris would probably enjoy the opportunity to kick Alexander when he was down.

“She’s right, you know.” Alexander looked from Flynn to Faerra and back. “Starting a fight, that won’t solve anything.” Maybe he was just a little resentful and a little too eager to say something negative to Flynn, but even Alexander knew better. Defending yourself was one thing, but starting a fight, that crossed a line, especially in a situation like this. People could get hurt. People were getting hurt. “They can say all the like, and Mithros knows you can’t stop it hurting… at least it’s not true. They have to make up lies to have anything bad to say about you.”

Except, of course, that now folk could say gypsies were bad-tempered and violent. Alexander kept that part to himself. He wanted to ask what was wrong with being a bastard, anyway, just to salve his pride, but it seemed silly. Alexander knew better than anyone else here how folk felt about bastards.

Then he flicked his gaze back to Faerra. “Soot, and smoke,” he said. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Oh. That meant it was Alexander’s turn to do something entertaining – Faerra had told a story, then he had, then Flynn. Now Faerra had told a joke. Alexander shrugged. Normally in a situation like this he would juggle to entertain people, but normally he was not around two people whose juggling made him look like a blind drunkard. He supposed he could tell another part of the story, but neither of them had seemed to particularly like it. Flynn and Faerra's stories were in-jokes about their family; Alexander was an outsider, neither as understanding nor as entertaining.

He looked to Faerra for some sort of cue. She was clearly the one in charge here. Alexander saw no point in taking the lead, and Faerra had control of her brother when she wanted it.

[Faerra Críwen]

“She’s right, you know.” Faerra elbowed her brother hard, an "I told you so" look upon her face. Alexander looked from brother to sister and back again. “Starting a fight, that won’t solve anything. They can say all the like, and Mithros knows you can’t stop it hurting… at least it’s not true. They have to make up lies to have anything bad to say about you.”

The young woman sighed softly, looking at the small boy who sat away from her. The sparkle in her hazel eyes had vanished, leaving only seriousness. He was not happy-go-lucky like many boys she had seen in her travels, or like her little brother, Ciaran. Something told her that Alexander had had his own share of hardship---probably much more than was the fair allotment for a twelve-year old boy. The way he responded to Flynn's hotheaded comment... he knew what he was talking about.

"Things become difficult," Faerra said softly. She was not refuting Alexander's points at all; the young woman was merely stating facts. Facts that she was sure both her companions knew. "People begin to see you not as who you are, but what you are. Gypsies are defined by their station, and not as regular people. People expect things from us the way one expects things from a dog or cat. It's grating to not be seen as an individual and called names all the time, simply because you're different." She paused and added in a quiet voice that Alexander might have heard and might not have. "But somehow, I don't think you're a stranger to that, are you?"

When the young boy answered her riddle so promptly without even pausing to think, Faerra was impressed. It had taken her quite a while to figure out that puzzle; she had pondered and mulled over it till her temples pounded. She had only discovered the answer when she came upon her brothers, Bror and Eidan, working together to light a fire.

Alexander looked at her expectantly after the riddle. He seemed to be waiting for some indication as what to do. Flynn stretched out to his full length in the alleyway, his head nestled in his arms and his eyes closed. His sister was silent for a moment before she told the boy quietly, "You don't have to do anything if you don't want to." She knew what is felt like to constantly be under the pressure that she had to do something to entertain people, since it was part of her job. Sometimes it was nice to know that you didn't have to please anybody and just relax. "However, it would take your mind off of what's going on out there," she gestured out of the alley, where shouts and screams could still be heard, "you can tell another story. Or finish the first one." Faerra left it open-ended. Alexander was frightened enough of her, she did not want to seemingly force him into anything.

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander only shook his head to Faerra’s question. No, he was no stranger to being seen as what he was instead of who. But he was not like Faerra. He swallowed the horrible, sour thought that she at least had her family. It was true, but it would probably hurt her if he said as much.

He did not feel so bad anymore. Yes, the situation was awful, but in the part of the world that stretched from the crate to the back of the alley, things were not terrible. Faerra was crazy and a little scary, but she was also nice. She only scared him when she acted like she did not know the world existed outside of her, like nothing could harm her. He was beginning to understand why she was like that, though. And as for Flynn, well, Alexander did not much like Flynn, but he knew he would not hurt him.

“You can tell another story. Or finish the first one.”

He did not have another story. Alexander wondered how Faerra knew the story wasn’t over. Hadn’t he given it a happy ending? He said the little boy went to live a better life. It seemed like a good place to end the story.

For a moment he just looked at Faerra, his mind busy and his face blank. He did not yet know where the story ended. He felt strange; this was not a story Alexander often told. And he realized that he liked telling it. When everything stayed inside his mind, it jumbled. This helped him make sense of things. Most people already knew the basic story and did not need it told, and did not ask further.

“First I have to tell you about another little boy. Otherwise the story won’t make sense. This little boy had two older sisters, one much older and on just a little older. He especially loved the sister closest to him in age, and she loved him. He was clever and naturally skilled at everything he tried. He was his father’s only son until his father brought home another little boy. That’s the boy I told you about before.

“The boy – the one from the first part of the story,” Alexander clarified, trying to make his story make sense without having to use names. Even if Faerra knew this was about him, he did not want to admit it. Besides, there was a chance she thought it was only a story. “—thought his new big brother was amazing. He wanted to be just like him. His brother thought he was terrible. The little boy knew if he worked hard enough his brother would love him, just like his father did because he worked so, so hard to please him. His sister left to become a priestess. When that happened her parents disowned her, and her legitimate brother was upset. He hated the little boy even more.

“As much as the little boy loved his brother, he was secretly a little glad when he was sent away from home to be a knight. For two years, he did not have to worry. Then he, too, was sent to become a knight. The boy was scared, but his brother was going to be a knight. He wanted to be like his brother, so that made him feel better.

“Being back in the Palace was strange. Even though it had been five years, he still recognized some places and almost expected to see his mama, even though he knew she was… wasn’t there. He was very good at some things, and especially bad at others. He still tried to make his brother like him, sometimes, but mostly tried to stay out of his way. They both had much to do, anyway. The boy didn’t mind working hard.” That part mattered to Alexander. He was not being a baby, not whining. “He was very lonely, though. The other pages knew he was a bastard. They mostly either were mean to him, or avoided him, until he started avoiding them. He thought he wasn’t as good as them and he knew they would only be teased for being his friend. He worked until he fell asleep every day. He would only hurt otherwise.”

Alexander wriggled his toes. He watched his feet, though of course he could not see through his shoes. The trouble with Alexander’s story was that unlike Faerra and Flynn’s stories, it did not have a happy ending. He still felt that way sometimes, though not as often now.

Suddenly he knew how to end the story. Smiling slightly, he looked to Faerra, “But in the end, it was okay. He met a warrior, and the warrior was different. He looked and acted differently from everyone else, but he was kind and he taught the boy how to fight with a sword and answered all his questions, even the ones the boy thought were stupid. When he learned the boy was getting bullied, he wanted to protect him. They were brothers in arms. And… and then it was okay,” he concluded. All right, perhaps not the strongest of endings, but it was better than leaving off the story before he met Hiro.

[Faerra Críwen]

There was a moment where the small boy just looked at Faerra. She could tell he was thinking something from the closed, slightly thoughtful expression on his face, but she could not tell what. Her stomach dropped into her toes as Alexander continued to not speak. Had she offended him in someway? Scared him even more? Both options were quite plausible.

"First I have to tell you about another little boy." When Alexander spoke, Fae could have sagged in relief. So she hadn't scared him (well, not enough to send him flying out of the alley screaming). Perhaps she wasn't completely socially inept. Perhaps it was still possible for her to make friends.

Faerra listened intently to the story. She kept her hazel eyes away from the small boy's face for fear of disturbing him anymore. Instead they were fixed on the brick wall ahead of her but her gaze did not stop there. It was as if she was staring through the wall, her gaze fixed on some unseeable point. But that is not to say the young woman was not listening. Oh no, no one could ever think that. When Faerra listened, she listened. Her entire body seemed to be straining towards Alexander to hear more. Her head was looking steadily away but you could see that nothing was as important to Faerra at this moment as hearing the story. However she had to puzzle over the family relations at first. So there already was a boy, with two sisters? With the same father? How had... oh. Alright. Faerra tried to wrap her mind around all this, while trying to figure out who the other people were in relation to Alexander. Oldest sister: half-sister. Older sister (the one who became a priestess): half-sister. Older brother: half-brother. And Alexander. Poor Alexander. It appeared he had not fit into this new family. Well, how could he? They had grown up together, shared memories together. They knew who they were. To have a new boy---a stranger---barge into their livelihoods and be expected to be welcome was quite out of the question. He had not shared the playtimes, study times, family outings. He was an outsider.

Faerra knew how that felt. She knew what it was like to be the one continually standing on the outside looking in. The entire country of Tortall was the legitimate child and she and her family were the bastards. They were welcome in one place for a short while, as long as they entertaining. But sooner or later they would begin to be shunned and seen no longer as a novelty but as a nuisance. The magic would be gone. The Críwens would leave.

Alexander couldn't leave when he wanted to. She doubted that he would, given the chance. He was learning to become a knight, and weren't they all taught to have high ideals and strong morals? Fae hoped that the young boy would prove to be a true knight, not one of those imposters in chain mail. Once she and her family had been chased out of a village by a group of knights for "disturbing the peace". They hadn't stopped there, either. They had beaten Master Críwen and Bror, when he had tried to fight back and stop them although he was only ten at the time. Those were not real knights. They were cowards who used their station to make others fear them and were not worthy of the horse they sat upon. She had a feeling that Alexander would be different. When he became a knight, he would be a truly noble one, the kind that ballads were sung about.

The young performer kept still, listening as the story unwound. Flynn was lying with his eyes shut, be she could tell that he was listening as well, though he was trying to hide it with the pretense of sleep. That pretense lasted until Alexander spoke the words, "He was very lonely, though. The other pages knew he was a bastard. They mostly either were mean to him, or avoided him, until he started avoiding them. He thought he wasn’t as good as them and he knew they would only be teased for being his friend. He worked until he fell asleep every day. He would only hurt otherwise.” Flynn opened his eyes and propped himself up on his elbows to hear more clearly. Like his sister, he kept his gaze carefully away from the young storyteller. But like his sister, it was obvious that every fiber in his being was attuned to the words being spoken.

There was a slight pause, and Faerra sensed the story was coming to a close. She felt Alexander's eyes upon her and she allowed herself to turn her head and meet his eyes. He was smiling. It was a small one, but a smile nonetheless. It looked as if the sun had broken through clouds of worry. "But in the end, it was okay." Flynn turned his eyes away from the wall to the small boy's face. Brother and sister listened, motionless, as the end of the story was laid out before them. They did not twitch nor cough; they did not even appear to breathe. If nothing else good could be said for the Críwens, this one thing could be: they were listeners. The entire world stopped until a story was finished.

"They were brothers in arms. And... and then it was okay." That apparently concluded the story. Faerra found herself smiling at the end. A quick glance at her brother revealed this his expression had lightened as well. They both had greatly enjoyed it. "I'm glad that boy found a friend," Flynn said, careful to keep the anonymity of the story. Fae nodded, her eyes sparkling. "Skin color and background does not define who you are inside," she said. "I am so glad that they both found friends. Somehow, with friend, everything is made more bearable."

There was a silence as the three sat, the two Críwens still replaying the story. "Well told," Flynn finally commented. "Quite well told. Kept me on the edge of my seat, it did." His sister was about to agree when she noticed something. A silence. Peering over the crate she looked into the street. It was not deserted, for there were still groups of people loitering about with dark looks upon their face. They appeared to be waiting for someone. She cringed inwardly. They had not forgotten who had started the brawl in the first place. They were waiting for a gypsy.

She turned back to the others. "Alexander, I think it's safe for you to go now. I'm sure this was more excitement than you wanted on a free day, and I'm sorry," she told him remorsefully. She had never wanted to be the cause of him becoming so frightened. "If you leave now you should be able to make it."

This post has been edited by Faerra Críwen on Nov 10 2009, 04:49 PM

[Alexander of Naxen]

Alexander had a knack for reading people. It was instinct. He knew what went on behind their eyes just like he knew when his horse was getting ready to bolt. There was nothing he could do with the horse but hold on tight. He did not know what to say to Faerra when he saw that glimmer of understanding in her eyes. Faerra might now what it was like to be on the outside, but she did not know what it was like to be alone. She had been born into an incredible family. All her life she had been loved. There had been people around with whom she felt safe.

But he couldn’t say such a thing. He did not like himself for even thinking such a thing. What would have happened if his father hadn’t taken him in? Alexander would have had nobody. His mama had not been the friendliest, and Alexander had no memory of other relatives. He probably would have ended up a beggar or simply died. He had no right to be unhappy; it was ingratitude. Yet he was.

Alexander nodded at Faerra’s suggestion that he could leave. He could not deny that he wanted nothing more than to step out of this indefensible alleyway, but he couldn’t leave the Criwens here. They would be beaten to a pulp. Alexander smiled at Faerra, hoping this would make up for his behavior earlier. He should not have been such a baby! He rubbed his fingers on the ground, smearing them with dirt, then mussed up his face and hair to look pathetic before climbing to his feet.

As he left the alley, Alexander intentionally stumbled over a bit of debris, drawing attention to himself. The angry men on the street, those still waiting for the gypsies, turned to him, and Alexander gave them his most lost, pathetic look. It was easy enough to conjure: he remembered the current situation and remembered how he felt around Samuel and looked very much the terrified child. Somehow Alexander knew these men would not hurt him.

“I… I was frightened,” he stammered, faking. He felt perfectly safe. If anything made him nervous, it was the lying he was doing and still planned to do. Alexander let his lower lip jut out and made his eyes go wide. He could easily pass for nine or ten. “Everyone started fighting… I couldn’t find Mama…”

“Sarden gypsies,” someone grumbled, and the others nodded and murmured agreement.

“G-gypsies?” Alexander stammered. He looked around, flinching in on himself as though terrified at the mere suggestion. This was not a boy who had been holed up chatting with gypsies for the past half hour. “There are gypsies here?” Seeming simple mattered little so long as the men believed him. He even considered adding in a few tears, but he worried if he started crying he would not be able to stop. Besides, he had some pride.

“Where did you last see your mama?” someone asked.

Alexander stifled the urge to grin. They believed him! He pointed vaguely. “Can you help me get back to the square?” he asked. “The one with the fountain? I know my way home from there.”

One of the men, none of whom looked so angry anymore, nodded and told Alexander to come with him. As he followed after the man, still very much on his guard, Alexander risked a glance back over his shoulder. The men seemed to be dispersing. His ploy had paid off. Faerra had scared Alexander and led him into danger, but she had meant well, and one good turn deserved another.

((Presumably the thread ends here, unless you want to do one more post with Faerra and Flynn?))

[Faerra Críwen]

((I'll do one more, to finish it up. I like this thread though. Well done! -high fives- ))

An expression of surprise crossed the young woman's features when she saw Alexander smile at her. It was a shy smile, but a smile nonetheless. Fae glowed with pleasure. It appeared that they would part on good terms. That was good. She hated having to leave a city knowing that she had quarreled with an inhabitant inside and not made it up. It always left her with a sour taste in her mouth. She was glad that such a thing would not happen with the small boy at her side. They appeared to have reached a mutual understanding of one another. Faerra smiled back, moving aside to give him room to make his escape out of the alleyway.

Yet what Alexander did next surprised both the Críwens. Instead of making a mad dash for it as they had both assumed he would, he first knelt to scrub alley dirt and grime into his palms. Then he wiped his hands on his face leaving streaks of dirt and mussed his already wild crop of curls. Faerra and her brother stared, uncomprehending. What on earth was the lad doing?

Without a backward glance at the two gypsies, Alexander trotted out of the alley. The young woman sighed in relief, it was just a disguise. Clever lad! Both Críwens stiffened when they saw the small boy trip on some loose shale and debris. (Alexander had done the deed so skillfully they assumed---along with the men---that it was an accident.) The men on the street turned towards him. Instead of going away from the men, the page headed towards them. "What is he doing?" Flynn hissed in growing panic. A man stooped to talk at eye-level with the page, his eyes glancing at the alleyway which the small boy had come out of. "He's giving us away, the sneak. We need to get out of here!" The young man was rising to his feet to make his escape but was yanked back down by his sister. "Shut up, you idiot," Fae whispered furiously. "Alexander wouldn't do that. Just lay low, all right?"

The two siblings crouched behind the crate, peering over the edge as they saw Alexander talk with the group of men. At one point he flinched and looked around in seeming terror. His eyes swept the area around him and Faerra thought that his eyes met hers. But no glimmer of recognition entered his eyes and he turned away from her without any tell-tale sign. They were too far away to hear what the boy was telling the men, the two could only hear distorted mumbles in the alleyway. Then, all at once, Alexander trotted off after one of the men. Two pairs of hazel eyes followed them, before snapping back to the group of men still left in the courtyard.

"Look, he's on his way to safety," stated Flynn, pointing out the obvious. "Any moment now those men are going to holler for some swords and go rushing in here. Any moment they're going to beat us to a pulp. Just you wait... any moment..." But that moment never came. The stormy and wrathful expression on the men's faces faded as they watched the small boy trot off with their companion. They shared a few words together before slowly dispersing back to their own homes.

Faerra gave her brother a shove. "All right all right," he mumbled as they climbed to their feet. "I'm sorry. I was wrong. Okay?" His sister did not answer him, she was too elated to see that she had been right about Alexander. He would be a good knight, she knew. Going to peer cautiously out of the alleyway, the street performers looked around the deserted street. Nothing moved. Thanks to Alexander, the last of the mob had been cleared away.

Taking his sister's hand, Flynn cautiously drew her out of the alley. They turned to go back to their caravan, heading in the opposite direction that Alexander had taken. Faerra paused for a moment, looking back over her shoulder at the direction the young boy had taken. She was almost positive that she would never run into him again. It was a pity for she would have liked to have seen how he would grow up. But then, you never knew what the gods had planned. All the same, she had grown to like and respect Alexander in the short space of time she had known him and was sorry she would not likely see him again. He would make a great knight, of that she was sure.

Faerra turned and smiled brightly at her brother. She was ready to head back to what consisted of home herself. Her sentiments were shared by her brother. He winked at her. Laughing, the two began to run.