Sometimes if she thought hard and long enough, she could picture it. Fen'nan could picture when her world changed. Or when she thought it did. But in truth it started when she was born, she knew. Venalaris had told it long ago, and she'd heard and listened, believed. But she thought it was much easier to blame him then fate. Or whatever the gods had planned. Less dreadful to think this was what fate planned.
Fen'nan begrudgingly got up from her bed, moving as stiffly and as quietly as possible so as not to stir her company, grabbing her black tunic shirt off the floor, throwing it over herself before padding across the room to stand on the balcony, midnight air kissing her face as she leaned over the railing, emitting a weary sigh. It was the dreams that had stirred her, really, but she knew sleep wouldn't come again at all that night. Not for her troubled mind. It was in these hours of quiet loneliness she could be herself. Without worry or distraction.
How long, she wondered, had it been since she'd been herself? In front of others. To the world. Just...exist, as who she was. Fen'nan stared out into the darkness, red waves of hair blowing gently in the icy breeze that enveloped her. How long had it been...since she'd been free? She stared into that beckoning darkness. She wondered and wondered.
And she remembered.
~~~
"....Oooh and they never caught the culprit,
Ohoho they never caught the culprit!
With hair as red as rose,
And skin as pale as snooow,
They thought they could,
They thought they should,
But they never caught the sparrow ooooh!
Oh yes, they never caught the sparrow...."
A young voice echoed through the dark streets, lively and spirited, filled with a certain youthful joy that echoed in the sprawling alleyway, the strums of a cheap lute echoing. A young, red-haired woman sat upon a barrel in the alleyway behind an Ithanian tavern, knee pulled up while her other leg dangled, as the lively jig came to an end, she glanced up, a wide, beaming smile on her gaunt, pale features as she looked to the small crowd that had gathered, all dressed in poorer clothing and rags. The down trodden and fallen of society.
But they clapped and gave her toothy grins, tossing the few coins into the woven basket at her feet at the foot of the barrel. Cheered by the spirited teen, by her lively jigs, just as poor and hungry as the rest of them, something they could relate to, but so bright, she was a beacon to them. A hope, almost. They looked to her at nights for their rare moments of entertainment and humor the Altalar bard often offered.
She bowed her head and gave a chuckle, the teen giving a cheery wave, "Aye, aye!" The freckled redhead gave them a cheeky, dimpled smile as she waved them off, "See ya lot in tae evenin' tomar'!" She yelled as the now more joyous crowd began to disperse, bending low over the barrel to count out the coins. In truth it was more then just making an easy scrap of currency. She enjoyed seeing their dirty faces smile, hungry faces light up with hope. The attention she got from it. Letting her voice be heard. All of it.
By estimation, she had enough to buy herself a meal for the night. Though sometimes the cooks at the tavern which she sat behind now, gave her the scraps or handed her a free meal altogether if she really put in some charm. Her thin, bony wrist reached out to collect the few coins.
"You have a pretty voice."
A small voice said from above her, startling Vestele, who shot up so quickly she tipped back on the barrel, toppling over it and landing flat on her back, the sound of her lute's strings ringing a poor, discordant note as it fell from her grasp and clattered across stone.
The redhead cursed as she sat up, rubbing the back of her head, "Wit tae fock is tae bloody matter with ya, ya cunt—" she paused her wide, blue-green eyes settled on the child that stood before her, staring at her with wide, ice blue eyes and looking very guilty.
He was quite young, really. A Teledden Altalar. Six or seven at most. She knew instantly he didn't belong, not from his cleanly washed, soft face or his golden-blonde hair that fell smoothly in an elaborate long braid. His sturdy, fed, small body and manicured nails. To the light blue, fine rich silks he wore. Vestele shoved down the slightly envy and greed that rose in her. Children did not chose who they were born to.
She suddenly felt sheepish and embarrassed, in her torn up dirty trousers with her bare, dark, dirt caked feet, tangled, messy crimson hair. All the way to her too-pale skin and her too-thin, awkward lanky form. She became too aware of her dirtied, gaunt face. Where she knew the cheekbones stuck out to sharply. She felt awful. More awful though, that she'd yelled at him.
"Oh. Yer just a wee bairn," she said, blinking at him, her tone accented heavy with Highland Ceardian dialect. Vestele glanced around briefly for an adult but there wasn't a soul in sight, save for them. Glancing back to him, she offered a warmer, sheepish smile. "You startle't me," she explained. "Didn't mee-an ta yell."
The boy gave a mild shrug, his expression turning to fascination as he looked to . "It's okay," he said, his quiet tone filled with intellectual grace that her's lacked, an Ithanian hue to it.
He bent a little, picking up her lute and turning it from side to side. "I like your music. It's happy and funny. The music at home is boring." He paused and glanced at her with wide eyes. "..But don't tell father I said that."
"Our little secret then," she said with a small smile. She thought he was rather cute, the way he peered at her lute, at her. Not with judgement but question and wonderment. Eager curiosity but such understanding. An old soul, she thought. She had the sudden urge to show him, well, everything. She got up and moved over before crouching before him so they were nearly eye level. "Where is yer father...?" She asked, glancing around for someone else. There was the feeling there was someone nearby, eyes on her. But she couldn't see anyone.
He gave a small shrug. "I don't know. He does that sometimes. He was here. But then he wasn't. He has business at this hour sometimes and leaves. Or watches. He'll come back soon though, he always does."
Vestele thought that was rather careless and lazy and irresponsible for a father to leave his child alone at night, but she didn't comment to spare the boys feelings. "Well. What's yer name?"
"Koreenth." He paused and offered her a polite smile, straightening as if he was a little prince greeting someone of great importance. "What's yours?"
She paused, considering. "You can call me...Vestele." She said, giving him a dimpled smile. "Did ya want help finding yer father? Surely he's round somewhere." His fascination with her lute paused and he looked her straight in the eye, smile wiped from his small face.
The look stopped her cold. His eyes held the world. A world of understanding. It was sad. It was the saddest gaze she'd ever seen in her whole damn life. He looked scared, briefly. "...No thank you," he said, too quietly.
Vestele stared at him for a moment longer. She wanted to make him smile more then anything in the world in that moment. She reached a dirtied, callused hand out and squeezed his shoulder. "Well then, Koreenth," she said slowly, forcing a mischievous grin. "Ya want ta play a game?" She watched the slow smile curl across Koreenth's face as he gave a nod. She straight and took his hand, taking the lute in another. Then they took off into the cold night.
For the next hour, she did everything she could to make the sad, wealthy boy laugh. She pulled him onto rooftops, dangled upside down off windowsills, acted out plays with outrageous dramatization. She made fart noises each time she put her foot down, told him silly, false stories. She danced about, singing rambunctious tunes with her lute. All sent him into riots of giggles and keeping him rapt on his feet, entertained. His laughs made it all the worthwhile. It made her laugh. It pushed the hunger from her stomach. Made her forget the cold for a while.
Vestele kept at a slower jog behind Koreenth purposely, allowing him to run ahead as they ran through the streets of Ithania's capital, a game of tag namely, "I'm gonna get ya!" She called after him jestingly, his faint, triumphant giggles ahead making her grin as he turned and sprinted around a corner and disappeared from view. She gave pause to let him get ahead some more before the tattered teen picked up her pace, running a little faster, adrenaline allowing her to ignore the pain it brought her bare feet as they pounded against stone, rounding the corner the boy had.
The sight stopped her in her tracks.
The alleyway opened up into a small little park area, a nicer area in itself. A bench at the far end, in the groves of a few planted trees, a man-made pond at the center of the small area. The bench, directly opposite of her was shadowed over, where a tall, finely dressed man in black sat, though his features were hard to make out, Koreenth sitting on his lap, panting and babbling away to the man.
"—and THEN she pulled me on the roof! It was REALLY high, and then—and then- she sang a song about these things called 'Haurmann and it was really, really funny!" He exclaimed quickly, out of breath from his sprinting.
The man nodded, his features turned away from her. But even in his shadowed spot, Vestele could still point out some things. His skin was pale, holding equally pale, long blonde hair that was pulled back into a braid that matched Koreenth's nearly. His face was smooth and unmarred, angular and sharp. Koreenth's father, she knew.
"Is that so..?" The man mused softly, so quiet, she barely heard him, his Ithanian rich voice as smooth as chocolate. His attire was rich, black and sleek with gold trim and embroidery. Finally he turned his gaze to her. Vestele's blood ran cold.
Though his face was shadowed, his ice-blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. They bore into her. Pierced her from afar. His handsome, angular features suddenly seemed so cold and cruel. Vestele had never wanted to run more in her life, unnerved. Another part of her felt humiliated, standing in her rags before a man who clearly had much more in life. Running around with his child as if she and him were the same. She felt guilty, and awful, and terrified all in that one look.
He slid Koreenth off his lap and into a spot on the bench beside him, "Allow me to speak to your friend then, Koreenth." He said, standing and not taking his eyes off her once as he stepped over to her in his sleek gracelessness, his footsteps barely making a noise. His tall, lengthy form towered over her by much, 6'2" at least, she thought. Much taller then her current 5'6" self.
A part of her wanted to bolt as he stopped a few feet away from her, but she found herself stuck. He looked down at her and gave her a thin smile. "It seems as if you've transformed my son into an entirely different person," he said. She blinked, uncertain of how to respond. Her mouth open and closed but no sound came out. It felt like an accusation and a praise all at once.
He continued on in his smooth voice, "Very bold of you, to associate with someone so closely who is so very obviously above you," he said, glancing her thin, dirtied self over. She wilted a bit.
"A—above?" She stammered out in some disbelief. Pride overwhelmed fear by some small amount. "Wealth...doesn't make you make you any better then me." Vestele said slowly, uncertainly, but she raised her chin a little to meet his gaze.
His gaze bore into her. If it angered him at all. He was good at hiding it. "No?" He asked rhetorically, cocking his head down at her. "Doesn't it?" He said a bit quieter. Ice-blue eyes piercing into her soul. As if he was reading her. Analyzing her. Sizing her up and down. As if he knew everything in her mind. Her heart. He read straight through her lie.
She didn't answer.
"Ah, where are my manners. Allow me to introduce myself." He gave her a thin smile that didn't at all seem fitting for his cruel, sharp features. "You may call me Venalaris."
She nodded slowly. She didn't want him knowing her name at all. She didn't wanna be near him at all. In fact, Vestele was quite sure she wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole. She was certain he knew this, too. He gave her a knowing, faint smile, eyes dancing with pleasure.
"I have ta go." Vestele blurted bluntly, stepping back. Everything about him was just...wrong. She thought if she did not, her pounding heart would begin to be audible at that point. She turned on her heels to leave.
"You're very good at conveying your point without directly saying it," he spoke up, stopping her in her tracks as she glanced over her shoulder at him. His next words were high of disapproval and distaste, clicking his tongue. "Tsk. Such a waste of talent,"
He gave a wave over at Koreenth, gesturing him over with his jeweled fingers, without taking his eyes off her as she turned to face him. He leaned down and closer, "You can sing very well," he murmured, sending chills traveling down her spine. So close she was surprised she did not feel his breath on her face but perhaps it was the cold slap of fear and shock that had her immune to any other feeling. Her heart got stuck in her throat, rooted in place as he spoke on in his quiet, unsettling calmness. "Very loud and clear, do you think your smart, bragging about your crimes in your songs? Did you think people would not notice? The arrogance of it. You foolish girl."
"You play a dangerous game, Sparrow." He whispered in a tone like ice. Panic shot through her. She felt the color drain from her face. Did he know about the robberies? The stealing? The conning she'd been doing? He'd been watching her sing tonight. What else had he seen? But...how long had he been watching? Vestele made a strangled choking noise in her throat but couldn't manage anything else.
She was paralyzed. Vestele stared back at his deathly cold gaze. "I do wonder what will happen if you dare to sing too loudly." He murmured, staring at her with his cold eyes, giving her a thin, icy smile before he straightened as Koreenth reached his side, placing his hand on Koreenth's shoulder, watching her still with the same look before slipping past a frozen Vestele, her mouth slightly agape. They're footsteps faded behind her.
After a moment she exhaled and allowed herself to slump against the wall, pressing a hand to her heart. Surely he didn't know anything. She hadn't even known him. Vestele sighed, calming her quick breaths, the lack of Venalaris's presence reassuring her. She was being paranoid. She was fine.
She wouldn't get caught, she'd make sure of it. She was far too skilled. Cockily, she knew she was untouchable. Vestele stepped her bare feet down the streets with a slightly skip in her step. He was just a madman who knew nothing. She should've robbed him, that's what. Maybe she would, she'd plan on it. Show him exactly what she thought of his ideas. The bold idea humored and entertained her as it took root in her young mind.
Vestele looked up the the stars with her gaunt, dirty, young face and laughed.
~~~~
Fen'nan thought back on it now, blinking at the memory. She looked to the stars, with her pale, beautiful young but grown face, rubbing her battle-scarred arms in silent thought as she stared at the speckled thoughts. She did not laugh. Fen'nan stared, murmuring to herself.
"Be careful what you show the world...
You never know when the wolf is watching."
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