Ethereal #Wattys2016

Chapter 1:Whatever you sow you shall reap

Prologue-The poem of the fawns tale

Her bones are ash and fire,
Her skin as cold as stone,
Crafted by angels on the dark dawn dawn of night,
Beware as she is about to take flight,

Her roar shook the forest,
Her wind took away the pain,
They knew she was coming as they could see the flames.

Her voice a melody,
She will dance a Royals waltze,
She will champion the seven seas in search of treasures and pirates volts.

A map of the heart,
Can set some people free.
As where x marks the spot is the place of an undiscovered destiny.

Where it all begins:The island of Fairasonia

"I will get you locked up for this one day...You caniving...charmer!"he cried out, shaking his fist at her as he turned his burly belly around to head down the dark forbodden road.

But Ashland didn't spare him a single glance, if he didn't want his cart to be robbed from then he shouldn't have ignored it to go and sit down in a bar, when he was supposed to be patrolling the town.Please, she was doing him the favour.As, she ran pass the old past the old, church that was on the roadway.Its chimes were ringing, as the sound of it rang in her eardrums, ad mixed with the sound of the coins rattling in her pockets.It was almost as if she was getting heavenly condemned from above.She was.I mean along with the others she was one of the most ruthless criminals in Fairasona and she was known as the 'secret snatcher' or to others as the 'fawn'. And after finding out that Sherrif Corloran was using the loan he owed the 'Royals ' she came for desert.along with, the pocket watch that he didn't know had been swiped from him when he was to busy shaking his arm at her, and the golden cup that was in his wheelwagon.

The streets at nightime were still alive with the sound of the festivities in the streets as it was the Augtum solice and to rejoice over their reaping of succulent food that had been ploughed from the earth;there was the sound of the music coming from the streets.It was nobilities' mostly actually entirely as they dressed up in their masquerades such as raven masks with embedded golden jewels and their black cloaks rippling through the air.There was knights, ogres and people dressed as beings from a childs worst nightmares.as underneath the moonlight, the creatures came out to play.

If you looked beyond the masks and into the eyes of thes of these people behing their masks you would see eyes that were all as golden as the sun, burning into your face.The reason was because the food that they ate, they gambled over, they secretly did their sinister plathing, they killed for.This food was enchanted.The seeds from the bread were embedded with the tears of magic, the flour that grew from the earth, was the fevers of fae, the fruit with its roots that grew from the earth was plucked and seasoned in the land by those beyond fairasonians.There magic came from elsewhere.

Ashland, with her golden gems were lighting her pathway as she ran between carts, couples and dealings and the obnoxious sound of the Fairasona instruments.There were ribbons of many colours draped along the narrow road.The trees that lined the streets, were as shimmering as the emeralds found in the earth.Aria dodged past the Arbutus nuedo tree, with strawberries that hanged like red, blood diamonds from its smooth branches.

The road was covered in leaves, of orange, burgundy and green and as she began to disperse from the boisterous street she passed the street band that played an old aevolonian folk tune.It was a song about things that go bump in the night.

"The ravens beak so pointy, steals the jewerelly from the maiden,

Her dress stashes money his heart came to lust for,

Her witches mask fits on her right,

And when the dance ends, they leave one pocket fuller

Consuro el fartine monture.The things that go bump in the night"

That saying 'consure el fantine monture, means and the'other pocket empty so be wise'.Oh you can count on them being wise as the boy who looked like a prince of some country with his jester mask seemed to tap his back pocket when he was dancing with a pretty village girl.As much as he and all the others were smiling, doing dealership and dancing along the square.We all know the words in these lyrics rang alarm bells in their heads.

After passing the ochordean player with its giddy music that the old conductor was playing Aria pulled down her mask even more.She had done a deal with him to take his ochordean last week because he decided to tell some guards to beat up some mebers of the Golden Wolves and to make sure that he knew where Charlie Artlan was hiding.Of course there was a funeral for those guards at the end of that week and Mr Rodlopho was playing his second fiddle, with fewer teeth and on a less spectacular ochordeon from the market.

The Candalebras that hung from the next street that she turned to were all spectrums of golds, silver and white as tghey cast a glow of a picturesque street that looked like a painting.It was a street of princess and princes, queens and kings but of course if they saw Ashland in her grimy old cloak and swan mask an alarm from the church would be rung and she would have to panic, which she didn't want to do, it was better to waste a breath on buying food from the galoria than to have to murder a king.She was not up to that tonight.

As she turned from the street, she turned down a misty alleyway that had the sour stench of mud and grime.This alleyway took her to a world that she belonged in.Eyes peered up at her from tiny shaxks on the broad alleyway with little children in little scarves and gloves picking bread from plastic papers.Mothers who wore bonnets and the skirts and dresses they had worn for over the past few year.The blacksmith as his hands as dark as his heart grunted as he gathered a pile of metals onto his wooden table.Where was the fire?Ashland wondered as his eyes caught her gaze even under the mask, he just grunted again.She grunted back.

Within the tiny shacks made from rags, the midst of a fire crackling in the middle of the road she saw the good girls and boys.They had little books in their hands, books they read to their brothers and sisters of dragons that terrorized villages.Witches that cursed princesses and princes that saved them.If Ashland had a prince perhaps she would be reading her little sister Faye the same tales.But there was dragons in the world, witches and ogres and dragons in the world.

She was one of them because she had to be.The chime of the bell rang from beyond the Galore but right now greed, anger and every character shed ever played were within her.Pulling her cloak over her head she entered into the giant tent like a thieves castle at the end of the pathway.Her consciounce was heavy but her heart was clear.The money that was in her pockets was her symphony, the Galore was her home.If she was going to live a life being bad, she might as well do it good.