Euotioa: Fallen Lands Draft Chapter 4

Euotioa: Fallen Lands

Draft Chapter 4

         Ansel grabbed the young girls skirt-this time he tugged with more enthusiasm. "Come on, tell her now! Tell her about Felda the blonde, you know her! You were there!" His voice had now succumbed to squeeky, desperate shouting. Penelope laughed next to the young woman Ansel was bothering. She was less than amused. "You don't know what you're talkin' about Dwarf. Hands off!" said the girl. She was large and easily flung the dwarf's hand off her dress. "Besides, I haven't worked at the King's Club in years. Maybe this Ferder girl came in just when I quit." Ansel sullenly crossed his arms. "It's Felda! Felda was her name and she was a Dwarf, not a girl!" The girl smiled now, turning to Penelope. Her perfume mixed with the alcahol on her breath, full steam towards Penelope. "Your Dwarf friend like dancin' with little girls, deary?" Penelope looked past her towards Ansel. Her grin came with taunting intentions. "Yeah, he and I have been known to dance from time to time. Down by the Cracked River, do you know it?" "Ha! Down by the Cracked River, that's funny girl!" The young woman had more of a cackle than a laugh, but Penelope was delighted to bring it about none the less. "Oh shut it you whore! She's talking about fighting not fucking!" Ansel broke in.
         The young woman's laughter died down and she turned back to Ansel. "In my experience, the two seem to mesh together quite often," she said. "And I'm not no whore, I'm a dancer. The sex is free, if I'm interested." The woman finished her drink and sauntered off toward's the Lucid Fawn's exit. Ansel took one spiteful look at her, then turned back to his food. Penelope said, "It was nice meeting you miss...umm, missus-". The woman turned at the door and winked. "M'name's Felda! Tell your dwarf friend to buy some glasses!" Penelope and her got one final laugh at Ansel's expense.

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Another young woman came into the Lucid Fawn moments later. Her business was not liesurley, however. "We'll be up there soon as possible, thanks," Ansel replied. Penelope's handmaiden turned away and briskly walked back to her house. "I wish her life was mine, Ansel." Penelope said. Her eyes followed the girl ahead of them as she dissapeared behind an alleyway. "No fancy dresses, no dumb parties...just the freedom to do what you want, whenever you feel like you want it." Ansel's eyes rolled behind her back. "I'm sure she's been saying the same thing about you, you know?" His voice had now turned mocking. "Ah, look at that sweet miss Penny girl! She's got clothes that fit her in every colour and a handsome young dwarf to keep her company!" "She can have all that if she wants, Ansel," Penelope said. Her hands were too sore to punch his shoulders. "Let her marry the right man, or maybe save enough of my father's coin to buy a house and servants. I was born into all this nonsense. I'm stuck with it. It seems like everyday Uncle Donald thinks we're inches away from dragging our family name into the dirt." Ansel motioned to stop, then began tying his shoelaces against a wall. "Well, I'll give you an ounce of sympathy there. Peoples in the lower classes, they've no notoriety. Kind of hard to disgrace yourself when you've never been called 'your grace' before." "It's not only that Ansel! I'm tired of the upkeep, tired of pretending to be someone I'm not!" Penelope now relized that they had stopped at the blacksmith shop she was previously eyeing earlier. The blades swang gently in the breeze and Penelope was entranced by the sun's glint off the polished steel.
         "Uncle Donald does not understand me," she continued. "He wants to keep me pinned up like a doll while he shmoozes his way into...the Courts, I geuss." Ansel had now appeared behind her, keeping his hand on her back to guide her home. "Ansel," Penelope said. "I hate him. I really do. He's not my father, he's not even like my father." "And just how do you know what your father was like," said Ansel. The girl's eyes strayed forward, ice cold. "You want my input on the matter? Here it is," he said. "One, you should be grateful. I doubt girls like Freyda or whatever the hell her name was choose whoring over a steady clean job." "She was a dancer, Ansel, and I'm not saying that's what I want to do-" "Ah, ah, shush girlie," Ansel said sternly. "Second, don't go badmouthing your Uncle. He raised you and he loves you, just like a father. Anything and everything he's doing is to protect you. Besides, I wouldn't even say your ready for what you wanna do. And that's fighting someone else, isn't it?"
         Penelope nodded. "Thought so," Ansel repllied. "Tell you what. Once your done learning how to fight proper, I'll take you down to the black districts. Please tell me you haven't been there, have you?" Penelope shook her head this time. She'd heard awful things about those slums; you could barely walk ten feet without finding trouble. "What's in the black districts?" she asked. Ansel laughed. "Nothing good, trust me! But it's excellent training. My father sent me down there once I learned how to fight. I had nothing but a rusty axe. He just had me walk the streets, told me to do some good for one night." "Ok, so what good did you do?" Ansel chuckled. "I met Freya down there- trust me, I did some real good down there!"