Story Smears

Lockholme

People may have hated his mother, but that didn't stop them from buying her cakes.
That was how good they were. So Elys would have no choice but to realise the truth.
Well, in all this time he'd been waiting, he realised he was wholly able to have gone back, baked a cake, returned and Elys still wouldn't be there. She always had the most untimely appearances. By then, the cake would've gotten cold, he thought to himself.

A cold trickling woke him back up again, and he jerked upright. A rickety carriage swerved close to the cobblestone kerb, splashing all the water collected from the night's rain onto him. It was like having shards of ice pressed against his already cold skin. He pressed his hand to his hat again and looked up. Well, at least the hat wasn't drenched. Checking the time again, he saw that an extra fifteen minutes had passed. At least Elys actually came - he thought he was being made a fool out of. Good thing she never beat around the bush with anything else.

"Stop lookin' at me like that," she said, and put on her cheery farce for whoever was accompanying her. "This was the only ol' thing that I could wrangle for with a single twopenny."

Cheapskate. Anyone who knew Elys would think no less. For one, she always kept hordes of cash on her person to use as bribes. And another, she had entire underground reserves full of expensive and highly sought-after treasures that she sold under aliases to avoid the wardens finding out about what she was doing. For all they knew, the seller was just some rich, retired enthusiast. Or a youngster who inherited precious heirlooms, selling them to make more money.

"Using a handful of shillings to buy anything is enough to get anyone's attention," Elys said, when she was bargaining at the market square. "It's like showing your entire hand in a game of poker."

He shook his head and sighed that time, already aware of the logic. What he didn't understand was why she always sought things at the lowest value possible. Even the meeting room she bought was a grimy-looking wooden shack that seemed like it was about to topple over, given a little nudge.

"Well, I did say that today," he noticed how Elys didn't say the time (because she came back in donkey's hours) and she seemed to be using her buttering-up face, "was a Callin'. I didn't bring you over here for nothin', we've finally got ourselves a bran'-new recruit!"

He looked back at the newcomer, a single eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Welcome." He stated blankly, nodding at the person standing beside Elys.

"Stop bein' so uptight, for goodness' sake," she looked over at the recruit, "sorry about him, he's just a bit grouchy."

The newcomer grinned regardless, flashing a slightly yellowed smile at him. He tried to do a smile back, but it didn't come out properly. The newcomer chuckled.

Elys looked at him, supposedly trying not to laugh. She snorted anyway. Soon after, Elys recollected herself, looking him in the eye. "This is Darius, our quiet, shy and most untrusting member of our association." Darius frowned. "Darius, meet Magnus, the real optimist you need in your life. And Magnus, meet Darius."

Elys stating her honest opinions most of the time could be a hassle, especially when Darius couldn't actually tell whether she was teasing him or not. He could already tell Magnus was optimistic: with rays of blinding sunshine coming forth from his sole being.
And he did not need a therapist.

"Is that all the Calling was for?" Darius asked. "I got my clothes drenched for nothing then." He groaned.

"Don't be silly, the Callin' wasn't just that. And your hat is dry, so s'all good." Elys wasn't keen on explaining their business in the open, so they paid a visit to her rackety, cheaply-bought shack on the outskirts of Lockholme.

Darius was going to suggest that he'd pay for a carriage (one that wasn't going to fall apart), but Elys refused. She said it would be good bonding time for Magnus and him both.
He wished he could disapprove of that horrendous idea. Walking would take a while, and Magnus talked far too quickly for him to understand anything he said. People born in Lockholme always spoke like that. He was from Akkasia, where people did not speak at a rate of a thousand miles per hour. As an added bonus, he learnt that Magnus always had a sense of excitement in his voice, which made it even more difficult to follow along.

Darius found he did not have enough energy to deal with Magnus on a day-to-day basis.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" Magnus chirped. "I mean, that whole mysterious thing you've got is sure to attract somebody, if you know what I mean."

Not really. He knew the newcomer was trying to 'connect' with him... actually listening to what Elys said.

"He's very much a tall softie," Elys said, exposing him in the open. "He's morally sane, religious an' all. Plus, he likes to bake."
And you've never eaten anything I've made, Darius thought to himself.

"Wow, really?! I wouldn't have thought that about him," Magnus grinned.

Darius' cheeks flushed. She never took him seriously about anything, even if he put on his stern face. She didn't have to say stuff like that. "Well, we're here," he stated, leaning his head to the direction of Elys' most cheaply-bought scrap of land. It looked more like a creepy, possessed shack than anything else. For one, a lot of the wood was rotting, and the front was overgrown with weeds and spiny thorns. The place had a mind of its own, groaning and sighing like it was an old man with a weak back.

If Elys spent even two shillings more, maybe Darius would not be looking at something that was about to fall apart at any second. Who was even allowed to sell this thing as a house?

All the other houses were much more average - and safe-looking. Made with bricks, and lined up with one another, chimneys puffing out smoke from whatever fireplace was lit to keep the people warm. Lighting a fireplace in this shed of an abode was sure to set everything on fire in an instant. On top of that, it seemed that various pigeons and magpies used the roof as their resting place, shrieking, cawing and flapping their annoying wings.

Pigeons from Lockholme that you wouldn't find anywhere else: fattened, annoying and incredibly slow birds. Sitting in front of carriages, then trying to waddle off with their rounded bodies as if they wanted to get run over. A lot of them actually did.

As a child, there used to always be an evil, demonic pigeon sitting beside his window, cawing when the sun hadn't even risen just to wake him up early. Darius hated it moreso when it was summer, and the pigeon forced him to wake up earlier and earlier. From that horrid experience, he learnt that those hellish birds were the messengers of the evil spirits themselves. In every city, that was the case. He wondered if it was the same out in the countryside.

"Darius, pay attention. The door is open," Elys stated, swinging open the rickety door and stepping inside. Magnus, having too much energy, almost skipped to the front, while he slowly trodded forth.

This was going to be a long day.

Oh my god, it's been so long since I published anything on wattpad! I'm glad that I finally have though. What do you guys think of this snippet?

-Mizuki K.