Post by lelaofbast on Jan 18, 2012 5:10:21 GMT 10
Title: A Thin Line
Rating: G
Word Count: 422
Summary: Phelan reflects on his life after the death of Verene.
Beltane fires. Couples jumping hand in hand over the embers.
A paradise for all the realm’s cut-throats and pick-pockets.
Plenty of work for Dogs.
Exhaustion.
Relief at going back to the kennel at last.
Blood, tears, white cloth.
She’s gone.
Phelan splashed water onto his face, trying to shake the memories of the night before. Today he had to be strong. Today they were burying Verene.
A healer was pulling a white cloth over her lifeless body.
He managed to dress himself and walk over to Beka’s for breakfast. It was automatic. He didn’t think about it.
Her haunting voice, merry as she sang her favorite fishing tune.
Achoo looked up as he left, tail thumping hopefully on the floor. “Tinggal,” Phelan told her wearily.
He went to the burials, barely noticing that he was there. His mind raced, missing Verene, and pondering the ideas that Rosto the Piper had put in his head.
The Puppy’s Lullaby.
Pidgeons flocking, flying away.
Phelan followed the watch sergeant into the kennel.
“You wanted to speak with me?” Ahuda asked him.
Deftly, Phelan set his leather badge on her desk.
“I’m sorry to see you go,” Ahuda said with a sigh. “You’re a good Dog, Phelan Rapp.”
“I’m sorry too,” Phelan said, turning to leave the kennel.
“You know I’ll need you to bring the scent hound back?” the watch sergeant called after him. Phelan turned and nodded. His gut twisted at the thought of losing Achoo too.
He knew that many would question his decision to leave the Provost’s Guard, especially when word got out that he would be working for Ulsa’s. They wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t.
Phelan himself barely understood.
All he knew was that his world had been upended when Verene died. Drunk Otelia and Rollo the idiot- what a pair to give a Puppy to! They were supposed to teach and protect Verene. Phelan could forgive under different circumstances, but the drink—why?
He couldn’t imagine continuing on when he couldn’t trust his fellow Dogs.
He was stupid. She was drunk.
Rosto waited for him where Jane Street met Westberk Street.
“Are you ready, lad?”
Rosto- there was a trustworthy fellow. He’d gain control of the Lower City rats. And he’d personally flay any rusher that showed up drunk.
The line between rushers and dogs is a thin one.
Phelan had heard the saying. He knew now that his path would cross this line. With a deep breath, he took a step forward, following Rosto to the Court of the Rogue.
Rating: G
Word Count: 422
Summary: Phelan reflects on his life after the death of Verene.
Beltane fires. Couples jumping hand in hand over the embers.
A paradise for all the realm’s cut-throats and pick-pockets.
Plenty of work for Dogs.
Exhaustion.
Relief at going back to the kennel at last.
Blood, tears, white cloth.
She’s gone.
Phelan splashed water onto his face, trying to shake the memories of the night before. Today he had to be strong. Today they were burying Verene.
A healer was pulling a white cloth over her lifeless body.
He managed to dress himself and walk over to Beka’s for breakfast. It was automatic. He didn’t think about it.
Her haunting voice, merry as she sang her favorite fishing tune.
Achoo looked up as he left, tail thumping hopefully on the floor. “Tinggal,” Phelan told her wearily.
He went to the burials, barely noticing that he was there. His mind raced, missing Verene, and pondering the ideas that Rosto the Piper had put in his head.
The Puppy’s Lullaby.
Pidgeons flocking, flying away.
Phelan followed the watch sergeant into the kennel.
“You wanted to speak with me?” Ahuda asked him.
Deftly, Phelan set his leather badge on her desk.
“I’m sorry to see you go,” Ahuda said with a sigh. “You’re a good Dog, Phelan Rapp.”
“I’m sorry too,” Phelan said, turning to leave the kennel.
“You know I’ll need you to bring the scent hound back?” the watch sergeant called after him. Phelan turned and nodded. His gut twisted at the thought of losing Achoo too.
He knew that many would question his decision to leave the Provost’s Guard, especially when word got out that he would be working for Ulsa’s. They wouldn’t understand. They couldn’t.
Phelan himself barely understood.
All he knew was that his world had been upended when Verene died. Drunk Otelia and Rollo the idiot- what a pair to give a Puppy to! They were supposed to teach and protect Verene. Phelan could forgive under different circumstances, but the drink—why?
He couldn’t imagine continuing on when he couldn’t trust his fellow Dogs.
He was stupid. She was drunk.
Rosto waited for him where Jane Street met Westberk Street.
“Are you ready, lad?”
Rosto- there was a trustworthy fellow. He’d gain control of the Lower City rats. And he’d personally flay any rusher that showed up drunk.
The line between rushers and dogs is a thin one.
Phelan had heard the saying. He knew now that his path would cross this line. With a deep breath, he took a step forward, following Rosto to the Court of the Rogue.