Black and Olive

Black and Olive

Chapter 1: Vengeance and home



Aged trees in Acodima were usually seen by malevolent eyes. Iris's feeding emotions of hate and lust. The heart of Diistain forest held pages of history through old dead trees. But the foliage couldn't do anything. Dying nature had to watch others to the same. Tonight was the same old thing.

"Get on your knees you little bitch," words shot from a gritty mouth. The mouth belonged to a middle aged man who sustained all cliches of poor. Torn clothing attempted to cover a frail body. Greasy hair jetted into different directions contrasting with the ladies hair he held firmly. "Remember, as long as you make it good and don't bite down, I'll let you live. That's better than death, ain't it?" His smile widened while his pants dropped.

From the side, another man who wore black had appeared, "You're asking her if sucking your puny cock is better than Heaven?"

Still holding the woman's hair, he looked to his side. The smile which previously dulled his face was gone, and a scowl proceeded. "Who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing staring at my dick?!"

The man smiled and his black jacket swayed in the bitter wind, "Nah, I just assumed. If you have to force someone to take it, there must be a lot the imagination has to conjure," he said glancing down. "Looks like I was right."

"You're dead you homo!" Letting go of the woman's hair, the man pulled up his pants and reached into his pocket. A shinny knife flipped out which aided in returning his grin. "I'm gonna cut your little jacket up nice and dig into your faggot heart! How do you like the sound of that?"

With his long black jacket still drifting in the wind, the man shook his head, "Alright, I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Tirsche; not one of your lackey insults," Tirsche said calmly. "Can I have the pleasure of knowing yours?"

The ragged looking man still advanced upon Tirsche, "I'm not telling you my fucking name! I'm gonna send you to hell, so it don't matter!" Now only three feet spaced the two apart.

Tirsche's expression turned stotic, "What a shame. I guess your gravestone will be empty." His fist flew forward and connected with his opponents nose. The knife dropped into withering grass, and Tirshce threw another punch towards the mans stomach. Blood drained from his nose and flew out of his mouth.

"I'll...I'll kill you!", he said while falling to the ground. Tirsche stood still, again allowing the wind to ripple his jacket. He watched while the man frantically looked for his knife. Thin fingers grazed the weeds as he continued to mutter profanity at the dormant Tirsche.

Behind him, the woman stood up, "I have what you're looking for," she yelled. The man turned to see his own blade stick deep in his torso. Crimson quickly became his shirts new color.

"You bitch! You gawd damn fucking bitch!"

His last words were given before being stabbed a number of more times. Soon the lifeless corpse laid face down; blending in with dying weeds. A cold wind whispered over head. It seemed to comment the mood of Tirsche. Since his second punch, he had been standing with the same expression. He watched as the woman breathed deeply. Her eyes were on fire with hate. Her hands were delicate from a life of no work. Her mind still hadn't grasped what was done. Tirsche turned his back and made his leave through the old trees. His hand was still shaking from striking the mans nose, and he held it in the other. The black flowing jacket disappeared over a hill; hidden from anyone's view.





A warm fireplace comforted Tirsche's body and mind while he sat in a cushioned chair. Warm air was kept within the house he called home. Night had fallen, and the silence of country life outside aided in relaxation. A pair of hands gave therapy to his right one. While he retraced the fight from before in his mind, a voice interrupted.

"It's not like you to use your hands," a man who sat beside Tirsche said. "But, I guess that's what you're forced to do when-"

"Rue, just be quiet," Tirsche interjected. "I know, I should have brought my sword. You tell me this all the time."

There was a short pause when only the crackling fire spoke. Rue, the man sitting next to him sighed, "I'm sorry. I know it's not easy. Not just that, I know you don't want it to be easy."

"...Yeah," Tirsche said while rubbing his face with his left hand.

"Where did it happen?" Rue said, resuming the therapy to Tirsche's forearm.

"Just a mile south of Acodima's West gate. It's that place where Darin was hassled."

"Ah," Rue frowned. "That seems to be a busy place. I wonder how many-"

"You're doing it again," Tirsche spat. "Anyway, he didn't give a name. So, I guess that part will be easy enough."

"Alright, I'll take care of it tomorrow," Rue said. Silence swallowed the next few minutes while they both escaped into their minds. Crickets outside pulled Rue back. "Do you want to be alone then?"

"No. Not yet."

Black needs Olive. Olive needs Black.