Olin woke slowly, his shoulder and temple pulsing with a searing, unforgiving pain. The first thing that he noticed was the scent of animals, urine, feces and rot. Secondly, he registered his with dawning discomfort his attire- or lack thereof, in this case. He cracked open his eyes and bright splatterings of colour danced before him, dizzying and bright cascades of crimson, cerulean and violet stunning him like a sharp blow to the head. His pupils began to focus abd slowly adjust to the dimness of the alley, seeing the decay and waste strewn across the stones.
...Where am i?
He raised a hand to his shoulder to grasp it, only to recoil in pain; the flesh had been hot to the touch and tried to stick to his hand like tar. "Shiiit." he whispered, grimacing at the seared flesh and the rush of pain that bloomed from his shoulder. It occured to him then, when his body had adjusted to the burn's throbbing that his fingertips were turning turning a peculiar shade of purple. Looking around him in the confined space, he spotted patches of snow that had fallen through the gaps between the buildings. He shuddered in disgust until a wave of realization overcame him;
I'm outside.
Olin dragged himself over to the wall of one of the buildings and hauled himself to his feet, uttering curses under his breath. Once upright, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. Underfoot he felt cobbles and straw. When he cast his gaze forward he saw the soft glow of a torch and felt a distinct lump in his throat. Torches meant fire, and the thought of his burns deterred him momentarily from proceeding further down the alleyway. Steeling his frayed nerves he began to slowly approach the light, his numbed legs fumbling for footing on the frozen cobbles. Olin felt himself lurch forward as his foot caught on a stack of logs, sending him tumbling into the marketplace. He could sense the gazes of strangers upon his skin. He turned his face upwards and reached out his hands, asking for help, or even a shred of sympathy- But was met only with a mix of horror and anger.
"Isn't that one of the Verions?"
"Disgusting."
Olin recoiled, looking around desperately- slowly they gathered, cold-eyed and enraged, clamouring to see him. He lurched forward and onto his feet, pushing out of the crowd as they set upon him a torrent of abuse. The stones battered on his back like a thousand angry stings and a wave of shame washed over him as he struggled to get away, staggering out of reach from their lunging, grabbing hands. Men spat at him, woman recoiled and shooed their children indoors. A man slashed at him with a dagger and kicked him to the ground. Olin cried out, his body convulsing as each kick hit him rhytmically in the chest. He had never felt so inhuman before, so ashamed. Lurching to his feet, he forced the man away and disappeared into a side alley, leaning up against the wall. He raised a hand to his cheek, wiping the tears from his face. Olin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, head pressed against the wall for what seemed like an eternity, listening to the voices of the villagers ebb away. Such vhement hatred- it's unlike anything i've ever experienced. Hands at his eyes, Olin tried to remove the twisted visions of the villagers from his conciousness. With a juddery exhale he turned and looked around wearily, shrinking back as a man passed the opening to his hiding spot. I should find clothes, a disguise, anything. Olin pressed his nails into his palms hard, feeling the blood well up under his fingertips. The thought of venturing out was frightening in his weakened state, but he was aware he would freeze to death if he opted to remain unclothed.
Casting his mossy gaze over the broken down buildings and up to the washing lines Olin caught sight of a shirt and paused, observing it as it hung still overhead. "That will do." he murmured, grabbing it off the line. He wandered for over an hour in the cold streets, avoiding abuse and finding garments. Olin had by some miracle acquired a cape and swung it over his shoulders, drawing the hood over his head to obscure his identity.
Stepping out into the street, he finally was able to recognize where he was; The slums of Ilon. He looked around slowly, watching the village bustle around. The market was oddly busy at night, he noted, but he was in no place to question the happenings in and around town. Olin was faced with only one route; leave Ilon and take refuge in the forest. He grimaced at the thought; the forest was full of wild cats and Olin was not entirely excited about the prospect of fending off wild animals in his current state. Nonetheless, this was his only option.
That said and done, he had to get out of the city first.
Olin overheard the conversation of two guards as they approached the marketplace, pressing himself against the wall of one of the trader's carts. He felt his body stiffen as one of the guards addressed the market from atop a podium.
"Citizens! If you see a man in his mid 20s with long red hair, facial hair, green eyes and a burn covering his right shoulder please report him to the nearest guard. You will be rewarded handsomely."
Almost immediately he felt eyes on his body and slowly pushed off the wall, heading for the nearest exit from the marketplace. Olin considered his situation as he carefully weaved through the masses, using his good arm to create a division in the crowd ahead. How do I get out of here safely... An eruption of shouting sounded behind him, startling Olin out of his thoughts and causing his heart to batter against his ribcage like the ocean against the castle walls, a sight he had often fallen asleep observing. As he turned to look he saw another redheaded man pinned cheek to the wall with his arms crossed behind his back and a guardsman's shoulder driven directly into his upper spine.
Olin paused, his brow furrowing in indecision. Do I let this man suffer on my behalf? He observed the terror on the face of the innocent, and drew a sharp breath-
Then Olin turned on his heel and left the marketplace, cowed by the thought of what they would do to him. Why not let this man take my burdens? Better him than me.
Olin quickened his pace, shouldering his way past the townsfolk as he made towards the inn, spotting a row of horses tied to a post outside. Making a snap judgement he grabbed the reins of a slender black mare and swung his leg over her back, kicking her into action. As the mare reared in excitement, Olin's hood fell from his head and his brilliant red hair caught the firelight instantly- a guardsman yelled, but Olin had chosen well- the horse turned on heel and broke into a gallop, bucking slightly as she went.
Olin crouched low in the saddle, steering the flighty little mare through the last few streets until she went shooting out of the Northern Ilon gate, thundering across the compacted red earth of the Kingsroad, steering her to the right fork in the road and over the Wilder Bridge, out towards the sprawling northern forest.
