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im-not-a-writer-im-a-biter · 1 year ago

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crit my shit bastards

llol if yhou want to crit this uneditbed piece of crap mostluy written at two am

Prologue

Three days in to a solo job, and I’ve managed to collect many people, none of whom there are rewards for. It should have been simple. Get in, kill rich bastard what’s his face, get my money, and repeat. Too bad there was a kid.

Two quartz to a dead tomorrow urchin with grease in her braids let me know there would be no guards on the Warner House’s servant corridor tonight. I didn’t care then. Her body will meet some poor sod’s quotas, and her blood will join the under river. And I will keep going. So why am I letting this mess me up, why now am I unable to keep my focus? This is the life, this is my life. And I won’t let it be my death. There are no bones on the streets of Cinemoor, and they won’t erase me that easily. But tonight? Tonight I will be invisible.

One last check of the alley. And the young girl cloaked in bruises who wouldn't let me hold her up, crumbles. This was the easiest night possible to get in. And yet, I’m getting us as far as we can from this place. Us. I don’t even know her name. She is not fragile, she is not protesting as we scurry and crawl back. Back to small shelters and comforts over streets shining with fresh rain. I know that this isn’t the right choice for me, but the muscle memory of running is too deeply ingrained. She looks back. I almost sob in unison with her, I’ve looked back like that before. To ask would be an injustice, but I take my jacket and shield her from the rain.

And now I becomes we, and survival becomes a slimmer odd. I would say my plans did not account for this, but they did not account for anything. We still have not spoken. Under the overhang of a sympathetic shopkeepers stoop the rain echoes through our ears. I don’t know whether or not to speak, and the fear that I am failing her intensifies until-

“We should go north” she says matter-of-factly.

“Petty theft won’t get you far here, but some jobs will let people like us do what we need to survive and stay in the law's good graces if we work for the right side.”

The glint in her eyes says she already knows which jobs.

I’m laughing, her piercing stare says I’ve made the wrong move.

“I wouldn’t call killing for gold petty theft my dear, isn’t that called being a bounty hunter around these parts?” Rolling back her eyes almost look like a childs, but the way she responds does not let me forget she’s grown up too fast.

“You have to be sure you’re playing for the side that can’t lock you up, the larger evil.”

It’s too late to be outsmarted by someone under ten. We walk in silence to a small park where my bag is thrown and lay our heads to rest. I’m sure I fell asleep before her. Sleeping through bombs has been my habit, and she clearly disapproved when the sun was unsuccessful at starting our day. “Good morning,” She said, hands in pockets, a finger sticking out through the worn sides, “We’re going to the precinct.” And that was that.

We left with a gaggle of useless fools and a plan with more room for doubt than anything I’ve attempted. And somehow, three days away from what had been a solo job I stand corrected, I’m not going to be doing this alone.

Chap1

There’s no honor among thieves. When I read of living without rules I imagined there would be a kindness to those sharp edges. The harsh truth is no guild or gang will take me. I am conspicuous and tall, I am clumsy and loud, I am young and reckless. I am running from a cop. The boots weren’t from some innocent craftsman. I am no monster. The smoke that fills the sky won’t get my money and the walls of their factory won’t get my blood. I know that paying for them would have been paying for their greed and no money I spent would benefit the children who made these damn boots. So, they might as well benefit me so some day I can get that place burnt.

Forcing their hand doesn’t work with the law, it doesn’t matter if they are in the wrong, officers are bulletproof even in death, I won’t win if I fight this. So hightail I scatter. I’ve been alone in my little operation for a while, if they catch me now I’m screwed. No loner idiot stupid enough to get caught is getting bail paid.

And so, I run. For whatever it's worth the boots I nabbed aren’t that bad for a quick getaway. There's no real safe place to go, but if you stay where those too important to be bothered are, eventually the cops can’t get to you. Two, four, six, corners and for some reason that's where I turn. I still can’t kick the habit of praying when I steal.

Forgive me Madgelna for dishonor brought to work is to poison the spirit. Forgive me Madgelna for dishonor… Exactly 85 times just as was told to me to cleanse my wickedness. Except a hitch of the breath at the fiftieth repeat says to start again. And again. Until my lips are cracked and dry and you can barely hear my gasped prayers for redemption and the sun has returned below. I have enough quartz for a boarding house tonight, but the thought of explaining myself or even idle talk is too much.

Oil lamps light the street as I wander. A pipe runs from a near flat roof and with quick glances I discern it’s safe to climb. One foot up, two hands steady as I make my way to my perch. The cloak that’s just a bit too noticeable for practicality that I refuse to part with is laid on slippery tiles and once I know I am secure I let the stars fade as my eyes shut. I fall to sleep to the sound of my prayers. Each more raspy and forced than the last.

The worst part of waking up above a city is how damn bright it is. Few things are tall enough to obscure the sun when you scale the top of your world. It may be a favor this morning, I’m far too close to the district's precinct. But now, the sun has barely risen and the view is enough to postpone my departure from this shoddy haven. The city looks brass in the dusty light, each spire and clock tower circled by herons. Though it is but wishful thinking the scent of the marshes beyond is sharp on my mind. Natural clouds and billowing steam dance and filter the sun as it slowly gains intensity. And the quiet hum of mechanisms and gears is just within reach, like one could touch the undercurrent of the city's power. It’s easy in the mornings to see the beast as beautiful, the cruel things have their depths and crevices allowing light to slip through.

And then the doors begin to open. A man sallow faced and quivering thrown from beneath a porch, a huddle shooed from the square every element of survival demonized and punished. And I’m back living in the city I know without question or solace. There is no time to linger here.

Unnoticed in the chaos of a city awakening, my feet once again hit solid ground. There is no comfort in the sensation. If I were smarter I would walk as far from here as I can, not staying for long so my face can’t be caught. But a little girl walks, leading someone in a disheveled red coat towards the heart of the beast. And I follow.

Everyone in this city is a fucking bastard, and no matter how untrue that is I am going to repeat it until I get to goddamn work. I’m up earlier than normal because of the irrelevance of social etiquette in the streets of this infuriating place and yet once again, my ass is going to be in trouble with my boss. But Myella is ahead so- I pick up my pace letting the sound of my boots ring through the din. The clay shingles above, framed in desperate light, almost sing. This isn’t creepy. Stalking your very platonic obsession coworker is normal.

Normal as anything else in this place. The job with the least education needed being the enforcers of law seemed funny walking in, but looking around bare minimum education seems high here. I hate it. There are so many people waiting to be saved.

Knowing Myella’s route, I speed up. It’s crucial she doesn’t see me here, as whatever shit she deals under the table isn’t for my eyes. I’m not sure who I’m loyal to, but I don’t want any questions about it. With information from previous mornings, I know the alley she turns down means she’s gone for some time. She will be late. I will be the timely one for once if I make the right choice. So with a sigh and some louder than required stomps I continue to the precinct.

It’s particularly important in whatever I do as work these days to keep our areas looking desirable. Upstanding people come here looking for upstanding examples. No matter the cause a dishelved fool is not to enter, the law is for those who can afford its gilded entree fee. So with a cruel thing of cogs and piping steam I set to keep the streets looking as the city is supposed to.

I am leading a moron, but a grown up can get more jobs than an urchin. She looks like a newcomer, dressed as eye-catching as a cardinal on our streets in midwinter. Too shabby, too proud. But this is necessary. So I shall do what I can to make it work.

I feel unprepared as well. I’m still dressed to be unnoticed by noble people, not the rest of us. So the slight way I have held myself for the past few months is attracting the wrong attention. I can relearn eventually, but with this hopefully I won’t need to take the time.

She hasn’t talked much, so I don't either. What is there to say? I'm barely ten and thats not exactly unclear to her. Nobody wants a softy to cry about things and slow them down. So I won’t. Its been as easy as that since the first day, though maybe if it was I would be better at this by now.

We are headed to an alley near the precinct, a general place where I can signal some enforcer desperate looking enough to deal with us. A quick tear in my shift, and she’s looking odd at me. I don’t respond. She’s already seen me at my weakest, I must be clear it’s all an act from here on out.

So there to the left I see a crisp uniformed teen with puffy eyes and a gait clipped like falcon wings. Just enough I can tell she feels the need to step farther.

#writblr #writers of tumblr

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