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Once Upon Many A Year Gone By .:III:. |
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“Is ‘e goin ta be alrigh’?” Came an echo of a girl’s voice.
“Aye, he’ll be fine.” Another female.
“’E’s wakin’ up, I thin-k.” The first girls voice became slightly clearer.
The slightly blurred picture of two girls, one with short, blonde, spiked hair and the other with long chestnut brown hair that was spiked at the bangs came to view.
“I coul’ be a docto’ I’m sor goo’ a’ this…” Said the one with the spiked blonde hair.
“Keep working on that.” The one with the brown hair replied, smiling slightly.
“Where-“ He didn’t finish, surprised to find his throat parched making it hurt to speak.
“’E needs wate’, righ’?” The blonde said, her accent heavy.
“Aye,”
“’Righ’ then, horld on…” The blonde stood and stepped away.
The boy began to sit up, the blur still in his vision and head pounding. He opened his mouth to speak but the brown head held a finger to his lips.
“Let Mome get some water first, then you can speak, Aye?” Her smile was warm and her green sparkling eyes had great depth to them. He nodded.
The blonde that she’d called Mome returned minutes later with a bucket about half full of dust specked water.
“That took long enough…” The brown head said, slightly pungent.
“Ya, werll, there wars a damn lorng line. Be happ’ I gort tha’ much, righ’?” Mome muttered dourly, thrusting the bucket at the boy.
He looked into the murky water at the mess of a reflection that was his face. He went to grab the bucket when he noticed the bit of bandage that was keeping his wrist straight.
“Did ju-“ He went to say.
“Drink.” The brown said sharply.
And he did, almost all that the bucket contained slid down to his belly. When he finally set the bucket down (careful of his injured wrist) he waited.
“Whart wars tha’ you were sayi’?” Mome said taking the bucket back.
“Did ju fix my wrist?” He inquired.
“Aye… I’m a doctor.” The brown haired girl said. “Name’s Damien.” She held out a hand.
“Jarrod.” He said shaking it. “You’re a doctor?”
“In some fields more than others, but aye.”
“Mome.” Mome said solemnly, thrusting a hand forward. Jarrod shook it.
“Pleased.” He said, smiling slightly. Mome’s grin was crooked but healthy.
“Where am I?” He recognized the prisons walls but there were no bars.
“Loornyville.” Mome muttered, the grin sliding from her face.
“What she means is, this is where they put the people that they think are… different.” Damien said, picking her words carefully.
“Diff’rnt?” Mome snorted. “Thery thin-k we’re loornyer than drun-k wearsels orn a sugar high!” She exclaimed, pacing a few feet. “Crazy! Thery thin-k this ‘hole lort irs a nurt-case!”
“Why?” Jarrod asked, fiddling with the gauss on his wrist.
“Why? ‘ho knorws why? One momen’ I’m in sorme cew (<- cell) for knorwing a craft a sorme sort, thern I’rm ‘ere! Ta ‘ell wi’ i' aw!” (To hell with it all)
“Basically, they think we’re all insane people who need to be separated from everyone else.” Damien whispered while Mame continued her rant, accent thickening by the moment. “Mame has a temper and an excellent fighting style, I’m from a long line o’ healers and the rest are in for some other reasons we haven’t tapped yet.” She flicked his hand from the bandages.
“Then why am I here?” Jarrod asked, glancing down at his wrist.
“Aye, there’s the question o’ the day. What can you do?” Damien smiled again. Jarrod shrugged.
Damien watched him intently for their silent moment (Mame continuing her rant, using words that Jarrod had never head.).
“I tried runnin’ away. Before I escaped I fell down some steps and woke up here.” Jarrod offered. Damien nodded slightly.
“What’re you in for?”
His answer silenced both of them, leaving them both looking at him. Mame’s crystal blue eyes and Damiens forest green.
“I can read.”
To be continued...
 Pressure Sensative · Mon Dec 24, 2007 @ 06:01am · 0 Comments |
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