FIRST MEETING (BONNIE & CLYDE)
He clutched the tiny cherry sized bell tightly in his hand, spilling out of the Free Range onto the paved ground of civilization. It was by luck and chance he happened to escape. Or maybe it was his cunning and skills. Regardless, he had his bell, his ticket out of hell.
The path from the Threshold leads to the fervid hull of the city, where the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich cavort in the same streets. Known to the serviles and the scummery as the Beggar’s Lane, and to the high nobles as the Silviri Bazaar. On a bright, sunny day, the densely packed paths were crowded with barely enough room to breathe. Back before the Revolution, Lobotomy Circus, with its raised wooden stage would be where people came to buy and sell their slaves. These days, the activity only continues in the hidden corners of the market, a dangerous but lucrative trade.
He knew that better than anyone.
Keeping close to the empty alleyways, where the sound of the crowd was just a murmur, he scaled the gutter into an open window. He peered in at the poorly lit, two room flat, squeezed into a space with barely enough space for a squat. Industrial grade linens hung from string, tied between the window pane and the small doorway. He chose the gray overalls, which were probably blue at one point, and snapped one of the buttons over his shoulder, the other hanging against his hip. Just enough coverage to look decent but blend into the waves of stone-faced workers who scraped by.
He jumped from the second story window, dropping to the ground lightly, his tendons gently reminding him of the strain in the Free Range. A towering figure stepped around the corner, coming from the tintamarre and the shadow fell over him. His mouth dropped open as he stared up.
He only got a glimpse as the woman stepped around him, brushing past him without much acknowledgement, besides the tipping of her chin to her chest. Her rather rounded chest. His eyes traveled up the curved lines. It was many seconds before he clamped his mouth shut, time and space returning to their rightful places around him.
That was the first time they met.
--
He clutched the bell tightly in his hand. Whatever happened in his life, no one would be able to take away the triumph he wrought in the Free Range. This was proof that the arcane law held him in holy regard. But out here, there were other things to worry about. As lawless as the Free Range was, the back alleys of Beggar's Lane were just as dangerous and twice as populated with street crawlers.
There was one place he knew well, like the back of his hand. Wrangler’s Spin, a dreary dark corner of Beggar’s Lane with its crouched, leaning buildings propped up against the corners of weary supports. The foundation had sunk several inches in the last years, creating trenches in the road at the perimeter of the property. One misstep and a foot could disappear. He'd seen drunken men twist their ankles in unnatural manners trying to climb out of Wrangler's Spin.
Leaping down into the entrenchment, the bell in his hand jingled, announcing his presence to the gatekeeper. "What does the Rain say to the Gods."
Without skipping a beat, he slides up to the counter, "Down with the skies and shame." She nods and tugs on a little string hanging from the ceiling. Nisqually was her name, from what he recalled. She was a small Red-tufted Scuiri, with a dark mark around her left eye, which was white like an overcast sky.
Her ear twitches to the side when a large shape pushed its way into the small space, the beaded curtain clattering. "Perhaps my memory is getting rusty, but it sounds like someone is back from the dead?” Jagged teeth split into a cheshire grin, golden caps flashing as the rotund man opens his arms wide in a fatherly welcome.
He sweeps his arms around the man’s large belly, the smell of heavy cologne stinging his eyes, bringing tears to his eyes. Never had he thought he would miss the smell of poorly concealed body odor, rotting fruits and the musk of cayenne peppers. “Tratsend, you have no idea how good it is to see you.” He pats the man’s back once before extricating himself.
“It’s good to see you as well, welcome back.”
--
“You owe me, son. You don’t got nothin without me. “ Spit lands on his face, the sour, acrid smell burning up his nose.
--
Commotion in the streets
Bonnie steals clothing, runs into Clyde who is running errands
She doesn’t say anything and leaves him be
Bonnie gets help from Tratsend who he used to smuggle from
On his way back through town, he sees Clyde being reprimanded for something. So of course he tries to be the knight in shining armor, but only makes the situation worse. He gets into a fight with what happens to be Clyde’s boss.
Clyde is promptly fired.
Furious at Bonnie, Clyde drags him away, and punches him (not hard) then leaves him to cope with a missing tooth.
Bonnie is frustrated and also confused why Clyde responded like that.
A few days later, Bonnie attends a Pitfight because Tratsend tells him he’s going to need more fighters. He asks him to find someone to fight.
He remembers Clyde and her stature so he goes on a wild goose chase to find her.
When he finds her, Clyde is working her other job as a scullion in a pub throwing out the unruly sorts from the establishment.
He sits at the bar, watching her work and the way the men look at her. She doesn’t seem to notice the hunger in their eyes. She carries on until she’s back behind the bar and notices him. She treats him with professional coldness.
He asks her whether she wants to make more money and she tells him to leave.
When he doesnt, she throws him out.
He comes back everyday for a week to convince her.
She tells him to wait after her shift is over and finally he’s able to talk some sense into her.
She says she has no training in martial arts and he tells her she has enough anger to fuel any rampage. She asks what the conditions are and he tells her that she’s going to be fighting in the Pits. She understands what that means but agrees anyways.
The path from the Threshold leads to the fervid hull of the city, where the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich cavort in the same streets. Known to the serviles and the scummery as the Beggar’s Lane, and to the high nobles as the Silviri Bazaar. On a bright, sunny day, the densely packed paths were crowded with barely enough room to breathe. Back before the Revolution, Lobotomy Circus, with its raised wooden stage would be where people came to buy and sell their slaves. These days, the activity only continues in the hidden corners of the market, a dangerous but lucrative trade.
He knew that better than anyone.
Keeping close to the empty alleyways, where the sound of the crowd was just a murmur, he scaled the gutter into an open window. He peered in at the poorly lit, two room flat, squeezed into a space with barely enough space for a squat. Industrial grade linens hung from string, tied between the window pane and the small doorway. He chose the gray overalls, which were probably blue at one point, and snapped one of the buttons over his shoulder, the other hanging against his hip. Just enough coverage to look decent but blend into the waves of stone-faced workers who scraped by.
He jumped from the second story window, dropping to the ground lightly, his tendons gently reminding him of the strain in the Free Range. A towering figure stepped around the corner, coming from the tintamarre and the shadow fell over him. His mouth dropped open as he stared up.
He only got a glimpse as the woman stepped around him, brushing past him without much acknowledgement, besides the tipping of her chin to her chest. Her rather rounded chest. His eyes traveled up the curved lines. It was many seconds before he clamped his mouth shut, time and space returning to their rightful places around him.
That was the first time they met.
--
He clutched the bell tightly in his hand. Whatever happened in his life, no one would be able to take away the triumph he wrought in the Free Range. This was proof that the arcane law held him in holy regard. But out here, there were other things to worry about. As lawless as the Free Range was, the back alleys of Beggar's Lane were just as dangerous and twice as populated with street crawlers.
There was one place he knew well, like the back of his hand. Wrangler’s Spin, a dreary dark corner of Beggar’s Lane with its crouched, leaning buildings propped up against the corners of weary supports. The foundation had sunk several inches in the last years, creating trenches in the road at the perimeter of the property. One misstep and a foot could disappear. He'd seen drunken men twist their ankles in unnatural manners trying to climb out of Wrangler's Spin.
Leaping down into the entrenchment, the bell in his hand jingled, announcing his presence to the gatekeeper. "What does the Rain say to the Gods."
Without skipping a beat, he slides up to the counter, "Down with the skies and shame." She nods and tugs on a little string hanging from the ceiling. Nisqually was her name, from what he recalled. She was a small Red-tufted Scuiri, with a dark mark around her left eye, which was white like an overcast sky.
Her ear twitches to the side when a large shape pushed its way into the small space, the beaded curtain clattering. "Perhaps my memory is getting rusty, but it sounds like someone is back from the dead?” Jagged teeth split into a cheshire grin, golden caps flashing as the rotund man opens his arms wide in a fatherly welcome.
He sweeps his arms around the man’s large belly, the smell of heavy cologne stinging his eyes, bringing tears to his eyes. Never had he thought he would miss the smell of poorly concealed body odor, rotting fruits and the musk of cayenne peppers. “Tratsend, you have no idea how good it is to see you.” He pats the man’s back once before extricating himself.
“It’s good to see you as well, welcome back.”
--
“You owe me, son. You don’t got nothin without me. “ Spit lands on his face, the sour, acrid smell burning up his nose.
--
Commotion in the streets
Bonnie steals clothing, runs into Clyde who is running errands
She doesn’t say anything and leaves him be
Bonnie gets help from Tratsend who he used to smuggle from
On his way back through town, he sees Clyde being reprimanded for something. So of course he tries to be the knight in shining armor, but only makes the situation worse. He gets into a fight with what happens to be Clyde’s boss.
Clyde is promptly fired.
Furious at Bonnie, Clyde drags him away, and punches him (not hard) then leaves him to cope with a missing tooth.
Bonnie is frustrated and also confused why Clyde responded like that.
A few days later, Bonnie attends a Pitfight because Tratsend tells him he’s going to need more fighters. He asks him to find someone to fight.
He remembers Clyde and her stature so he goes on a wild goose chase to find her.
When he finds her, Clyde is working her other job as a scullion in a pub throwing out the unruly sorts from the establishment.
He sits at the bar, watching her work and the way the men look at her. She doesn’t seem to notice the hunger in their eyes. She carries on until she’s back behind the bar and notices him. She treats him with professional coldness.
He asks her whether she wants to make more money and she tells him to leave.
When he doesnt, she throws him out.
He comes back everyday for a week to convince her.
She tells him to wait after her shift is over and finally he’s able to talk some sense into her.
She says she has no training in martial arts and he tells her she has enough anger to fuel any rampage. She asks what the conditions are and he tells her that she’s going to be fighting in the Pits. She understands what that means but agrees anyways.