The slums never had a particular allure to anyone; the smell that drifted from the shoddy sanitation could hardly be lifted by the distant ocean breeze, but Valerie found her feet trailing old paths from muscle memory alone.
In the dead of night, not even the scum of the city dared bother her, because the darkness brought either rest or fear of much more dangerous things to the most sinister of the city. But to Valerie, the shadows were a comfort, even if it had been a while since she had needed to know every shortcut, twist, and turn. Even the smell was something distant, but familiar—nostalgia lingered in the back of her mind, but she could never be sure exactly what she was nostalgic for. Nights like these dragged her back to her childhood home, no matter how much she insisted she'd left the slums behind.
Her job had taken her into the inner city, away from the more cutthroat and run down alleyways, but part of her felt like the eyes that could watch from every corner might be her.
A younger Valerie, a Va'al to her friends and the same child, scraggly Kathar girl that would peer on to strangers that wandered into the slums from better places. She felt out of place now, like her solidarity with the lives that scraped by was gone, and that that girl had been left behind when Valerie had clawed her way tooth and nail into a better life for herself.
In the shadows, too small to be a child but too soft to be a rat, there came the near-metallic glow of a set of eyes in lamplight. Valerie stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as her rhythmic steps were thrown off by the familiarity of it; a step closer revealed that it was a dog, but she had been stunned by the feeling that she had lived through that look before. A curiosity of the outside. Perhaps on some level, an envy for what she had, who she was. A longing for rescue, a desperation for escape.
The pup was small, and she could hardly tell its pitch-black fur from the dirt that it was coated with. Undeniably, in that moment, she saw the image of herself in that pathetic, waif of a puppy. It was malnourished and undersized, like a strong gust could blow the beast over and leave it down for the count. It was smaller than any other Ceardian Bloodhound breed she'd seen before, but that was likely why it had been tossed to the dirt of the alleyway—breeders wanted a sizeable puppy that would grow into something useful. The runt of the litter that could barely survive was a risky bet to take, and another mouth to feed when food ran short for some families in the best of times in the slums.
When she kneeled, though, she saw the flea-bitten tail thump slowly against the dirt of the alleyway, stirring up a little dust-cloud behind it. A good temperament. A sweet pup, despite the losing hand that it had been dealt. In those big, reflective eyes, there was a glimmer of hope. Valerie couldn't tell if it was a wish for scraps, or simply a soft scratch behind the ear: she didn't have the former, but she could offer the latter, and when she raised her hand to brush against the soft but somewhat matted fur, the pup was quick to lay flat, roll, and offer its belly.
"A boy," she mumbled aloud, more observation than anything else. With some hesitance, she reached out to cup her palm under the back of his neck, hoisting the pup up into her arms. He looked simply too pathetic to make it far on foot, but she had plans to change that; like Valerie, the pup would be escaping the slums that night. His tail continued to thump against her stomach, excitement rising as he realized the lonely life he'd suffered through in that alleyway was pulling to a close, just as she knew that this would be an end to her own aimless nightly wandering.
As Valerie hoisted the dog to her shoulder, arms wrapped under and around him to support him, she gave a thoughtful hum. "Let's find you a name."
---
Written by: @Feyona
In the dead of night, not even the scum of the city dared bother her, because the darkness brought either rest or fear of much more dangerous things to the most sinister of the city. But to Valerie, the shadows were a comfort, even if it had been a while since she had needed to know every shortcut, twist, and turn. Even the smell was something distant, but familiar—nostalgia lingered in the back of her mind, but she could never be sure exactly what she was nostalgic for. Nights like these dragged her back to her childhood home, no matter how much she insisted she'd left the slums behind.
Her job had taken her into the inner city, away from the more cutthroat and run down alleyways, but part of her felt like the eyes that could watch from every corner might be her.
A younger Valerie, a Va'al to her friends and the same child, scraggly Kathar girl that would peer on to strangers that wandered into the slums from better places. She felt out of place now, like her solidarity with the lives that scraped by was gone, and that that girl had been left behind when Valerie had clawed her way tooth and nail into a better life for herself.
In the shadows, too small to be a child but too soft to be a rat, there came the near-metallic glow of a set of eyes in lamplight. Valerie stopped for a moment, her breath catching in her throat as her rhythmic steps were thrown off by the familiarity of it; a step closer revealed that it was a dog, but she had been stunned by the feeling that she had lived through that look before. A curiosity of the outside. Perhaps on some level, an envy for what she had, who she was. A longing for rescue, a desperation for escape.
The pup was small, and she could hardly tell its pitch-black fur from the dirt that it was coated with. Undeniably, in that moment, she saw the image of herself in that pathetic, waif of a puppy. It was malnourished and undersized, like a strong gust could blow the beast over and leave it down for the count. It was smaller than any other Ceardian Bloodhound breed she'd seen before, but that was likely why it had been tossed to the dirt of the alleyway—breeders wanted a sizeable puppy that would grow into something useful. The runt of the litter that could barely survive was a risky bet to take, and another mouth to feed when food ran short for some families in the best of times in the slums.
When she kneeled, though, she saw the flea-bitten tail thump slowly against the dirt of the alleyway, stirring up a little dust-cloud behind it. A good temperament. A sweet pup, despite the losing hand that it had been dealt. In those big, reflective eyes, there was a glimmer of hope. Valerie couldn't tell if it was a wish for scraps, or simply a soft scratch behind the ear: she didn't have the former, but she could offer the latter, and when she raised her hand to brush against the soft but somewhat matted fur, the pup was quick to lay flat, roll, and offer its belly.
"A boy," she mumbled aloud, more observation than anything else. With some hesitance, she reached out to cup her palm under the back of his neck, hoisting the pup up into her arms. He looked simply too pathetic to make it far on foot, but she had plans to change that; like Valerie, the pup would be escaping the slums that night. His tail continued to thump against her stomach, excitement rising as he realized the lonely life he'd suffered through in that alleyway was pulling to a close, just as she knew that this would be an end to her own aimless nightly wandering.
As Valerie hoisted the dog to her shoulder, arms wrapped under and around him to support him, she gave a thoughtful hum. "Let's find you a name."
---
Written by: @Feyona
