Kingdom Adrift [p]

[LUCIAN FAWKES]

If a picture's worth a thousand words,
I'll paint a thousand pictures.

KINGDOM ADRIFT;

People here meant business. There was no time for child's play in a concrete jungle, where money means power, and to have none means to be devoured. Striding calmly down the streets, Lucian could feel the anger swelling in the pit of his stomach. Frustration had flourished from the atmosphere here, where people didn't bother looking at you unless you were fitted in a custom suit and top hat. "Too bad I left my spectacle at home!" he ranted, mocking the aristocrats with their foolish behavior. In his eyes, money wasn't power. It was the mask people donned to hide their fear from the truly powerful, they were weaklings.

A blue tailored coat rested on his shoulders, the gold trim running along the collar and treading down the currently empty sleeves. The baggy arms of the coat flapped calmly with the breeze, which carried his disgusted air downstream to the kingdom guards that trailed him from a distance. They'd been following him for awhile now, but he paid them no notice. Their suspicious eyes could only watch, he was lost anyways, and to be frank he decided he would rather not fight unless he got some sense of where he was going.

Weary of the sword at his hip, they watched nervously as he continued to tamper with the hilt. He didn't intend to use it any time soon, but their reactions were funny to watch. Gripping it tightly, he tilted his head, looking back in time to see their bodies tensing up and falling back. He chuckled loudly, allowing his laughter to subside before adding, "Keep following me, and I actually might kill someone today." They froze, aware now how obvious their movements had been.

Halted in stupor, the managed to move down an alleyway, increasing the distance before they followed again. Lucian only became truly annoyed when he could hear them talking, and glanced upon the den den mushi gripped tightly with trembling digits. Pivoting towards them, his glare alone was enough to paralyze them. The distance between them vanished, Lucian had arrived full speed, sliding to a stop before the guard who clutched the communication device. Extending the hilt of his blade, it smashed into the snail, destroying it before further mentions could be made. The guard dropped the phone, turning an running as he could in the opposite direction, his comrade stumbled quickly behind him.

[Skylar Roads]

Dawn Island was a special place. That was the nicest way to put it, at least. With its rural setting and vast landscape, it homed a copious amount of freaks and religious bigots. Skylar resided in a small but plentiful town where it may as well have been dubbed a cult. Cut off from civilization except on Sundays — shopping days — the town proved to be quite antisocial, harboring "idiosyncrasies" outsiders laughed at. And since it was Sunday, Skylar was allowed to leave town to shop for some food and clothing in the market place. Walking through the crowd, she was almost too bemused by the normalcy to be disgusted by it.

Skylar was a short girl, and it was rare for her to look down at someone who was older than twelve. Despite her short stature, her face was still mature, albeit harsh and cold. She wore plain black pants and a white tee shirt. Her hair was braided as per the usual down both sides. She was normal-looking. Her naturally tanned skin even matched that of the local farmers'. Really, nothing stood out about her besides her height, or lack thereof. But she was fine with that, for drawing attention to herself was the last thing on her list of priorities. Still, her disposition for knowledge left her curious and unable to mind her own business. She watched the spectacle unfold before her.

"I see barbarism is still prominent," she spoke to the man.

She scanned the crate of fruits in front of her, leaving a few inches of distance between her and the man. Really, she'd seen it all before. Men waving their swords around and talking big to scare off the people they didn't like. In some ways, she thought it was a never-ending cycle that caused humanity to be the way it was. Disgusting humans talking down to other disgusting humans. Some even branded the name heroism over these men who puffed their chest and intimidated the so very corrupt people in Dawn Island. She supposed the religious teachings drilled in to her head since birth gave her an inclination to pacifism, because deep down, she didn't really believe this. She didn't want to stand up for anyone. She didn't care about men picking on other men. But she would pretend for as long as her people would believe her.

[LUCIAN FAWKES]

If a picture's worth a thousand words,
I'll paint a thousand pictures.

BOLD;

It was reassuring to know that humanity still encompassed more than over-lookers. Tilting his head, Lucian glanced in the direction of the girl. She had disputed his actions, jumping so quickly to conclusions as to call him barbaric. Despite the impulsive actions displayed, It is hard to place label on motion materialized from necessity. Nonetheless, he wasn't offended. In fact, a genuine smile emerged from his face. Thin rose lips parted, revealing the quick riposte in a pleasant manner, "Not my fault for being raised Kumate. Judging me for my traditions? You must be a saint."

The cannibal snickered, openly edging closer to the small girl. "I was taught to speak with my blade, much like emotion is expressed through touch. What is love without touch? Nothing," Lucian contested. Her comment had probably been meant as nothing more than an observation, but he took it further. The pirate's platonic words lingered in the air, and a silence overtook them. He was facing her eye to eye, leaning in closer to place them with contiguous position. Their faces would be less than a foot apart, a strange allure cast from his gaze.

But their meeting was cut short. Swiveling on his heels, the statuesque swain departed, prancing up the side of a building and onto the roof. When he disappeared over the edge, royal guards could be seen swarming into the proximity. With no luck, their rummage for the Tartarus pirate had no prevail, and the girl would be sought for directions as to his whereabouts. And as he sat idly on the flat topped roof, he wondered if she would give him away. Could she weasel him out so easily, would she really give him away to the types of people that ran this city? Lucian hoped otherwise, pleased with her bold personality, he wished to pursue her further.

[Skylar Roads]

Skylar listened to the man as he spoke, a slightly complacent expression crossing her normally guarded exterior. A Kumate? Her instant judgmental tendencies got the best of her, and she instantly asserted her earlier assumption was correct. He was a barbarian. But really, wasn't that a hypocritical judgment? She herself came from a village of radical idealists. Just because they didn't feast on the flesh of human beings didn't mean they weren't just as awful, if not worse. Because rather than inflict physical harm on its people, the village settled for a much more subtle approach with mental tyranny and attenuation of charisma and individualism.

When the blue-haired man went on to speak of his oh-so-enlightened way of living, Skylar could only frown in discontent. By now, she had stopped looking at the fruits and had turned her full attention to him. Her eyes locked with his, and she assessed what he said with little to no confliction. Taught to speak with his blade? Idiotic. Resorting to violence to get a point across only meant such a person was devoid of articulation. An imbecile. But his next words were curious. What is love without touch? Nothing. She couldn't process that. The raven-haired woman had never felt that emotion in her life. Not of her family, her neighbors, or her friends. Perhaps of science, but she assumed that was more of a disposition than anything.

How did touching correlate with emotion? How did not touching completely erase its value? Was he being metaphorical? Impossible. He was a brute, after all. And it was then she realized how truly close-minded she was, shaped by her people to think a certain way and believe any outsider to be beneath her. She sighed as he left, turning her eyes back to the fruit. When the men approached her and inquired of his whereabouts, Skylar shifted her eyes to them with a dull, bored expression evident on her face.

"I wouldn't know. I don't associate with people like him."

When the guards grunted in displeasure and left, her eyes slid to the corners, staring at the rooftop to which Lucian had escaped over. She then went back to deciding which bruised tomato was less bruised than the other.

[LUCIAN FAWKES]

If a picture's worth a thousand words,
I'll paint a thousand pictures.

FAVOR;

Conjecture showed evident by the way her voice carried through the air. An equivocal report left the guards with their heads down and they fled the immediate area to search elsewhere for the criminal. No longer confined to ensconce, the swordsman rose from his prone position. A bright smile on his face. Were it not for the girl's lie, he would have been left with one of three options. Fight, flight, or jail. His ambition for them was next to nil. With a gentle touch, his lithe frame cast over the edge of the roof, sliding down a drainage pipe and onto street level.

A quick glance in either direction would reveal that the coast was clear, and Lucian approached her with a confident stride. "What you did back there was kind, I really do appreciate it," he thanked her, his hand offering her shoulder a gentle touch. The sensation that materialized from touch conveyed the genuine emotions of a person, and this girl could likely feel it now. When touch came from feelings of spite, or foul nature, it often felt uncomfortable. But when it was offered at the diction of kindness, it was inexplicable feeling. Strange to say the least, but comforting.

Stalling, Lucian laughed, scratching at the back of his head awkwardly. By this time he had her gaze once again, a different feeling about the course of their conversation. The somber tone had faded from his eyes, embracing humility in their absence. "You see, to be quite frank. I'm lost. And I have not a clue where I'm going," Lucian began, "I was wondering if you could be so kind as to help me find my way back to my ship. Safely." Emphasis was placed on the last word from his parted lips, his offer of trust was immense. Especially considering she had just referred to him as barbaric.

Lucian had plenty of experience with women. But none so resistant as her. Most were entranced by his looks, or charming dialogue. She was the first exception, which made her stand out from all the rest. Not to say that he was attracted to her in the cliched sense of the word, but rather, intrigued by her. Curiosity manifested within the back of his head, and he couldn't help but to investigate the source of his feelings. She understood people though rational thought, a thinking pattern often attribute to the left side of the brain. He blossomed from creativity and new ideas, which coalesced with the right half of the thought spectrum.

He had watched her fumble for tomatoes long enough, and finally plucked the finest specimen from the batch. Extending the succulent fruit before her, he smiled, as if to provoke a better response.

[Skylar Roads]

Skylar hadn't anticipated his return. If she did, she might have just given away his position. She was fairly certain a man of his stature who seemed so ready to wave his sword around would be able to either outrun or defeat a couple of city guards. Then again, she probably still would have told them she didn't know anything for the sake of causing them more trouble. Skylar had an underlying abhorrence for authority, though she didn't know it yet. If there was a chance to subliminally cause guards problems, she would take it without vacillation. Still, she sighed inaudibly when Lucian returned to the vicinity and spoke once more.

"It wasn't for your benefit."

When she felt his hand come to her shoulder, she casually reached up and pulled his hand away from her. There was no malice or attitude in her action. Just simple indifference. Skylar was aware people outside of her village used touching for casual circumstances. Shaking the hand meant assessing one's potential enemy. A pat on the back meant belittling. A hug meant an interest in pursuing sexual relations. ...Well, perhaps she was a little off in her read on human tendencies. Still, touching wasn't very common in her village, and she didn't mind it one bit.

When he asked for her to escort him to his ship, she raised her eyebrows incredulously. Now, she had to examine some logic. A man who seemed all-too-ready to stir up trouble indeed got in trouble, and she saved him from getting caught. Now, this man was asking her, a stranger, to escort him back to his ship. Maybe this wouldn't be as strange in other situations. Skylar was a five foot woman with no visible weapons or signs that she was capable of fighting. In fact, her only weapon seemed to be that of harsh words. And yet, this man was enlisting in her help to get him to safety. Was she missing something here? No. She only had to assume he was ill-intentioned. She looked at the tomato he presented to her and took it, placing it back in the bin before turning to him.

"What makes you think that I can—let alone will—ensure your safety?"

After all, he was the one with the impressive height, sword, and confidence. The only thing she possessed was the latter.

[LUCIAN FAWKES]

If a picture's worth a thousand words,
I'll paint a thousand pictures.

feisty;

Genuinely confused by the sincerity of her question he paused, cocking his head to the side with a puzzled look. She obviously wasn't timid. Someone with that bold of an attitude had at least some reason to be confident, whether by ignorance or weighted potential. Thin rose lips parted in riposte to her quizzical words, "Considering you know this town much better than myself, I'd imagine you could find your way around without getting too much attention." His response had not but a instant to sink in before he added, "Assuming you could keep your opinions to yourself."

A serious gaze cast directly through her, and yes, he was referring to how they had met in the first place. She had decided to speak out on his actions rather than mind her own, and continue with the course of the day. Blaming him for how events had unfolded was immaculate, it was her own fault. To be quite frank, the situation was heading no where fast. Temptations plagued his mind, he thought of kidnapping her and forcing her to leave this disgusting island.

By the way she spoke, it was apparent that she was yet to leave the safety of her abode. Her morals and opinions differing greatly from that of the swordsman, she spoke with a tone of ignorance. Ignorance to that outside of her experience. Which was relatively small compared to the swordsman, who had ventured to many lands outside of his homeland. There were different ways of living, but he made rational thoughts based on each individual. The unique thing about this world, is the mere fact that so many people can exist, and none of them are exactly the same. So how could you treat them the same.

Like everyone, his anger got the best of him at times. And the judgement that had been programmed into him would surface, stereotyping the wealthy. When the truth was, that not all wealthy abused their power or were born into it. Some worked hard for their living, and donated generously to those in need. Stubbornness had always been an obstacle for Lucian. Accepting the charity of strangers robbed him of comfort and pride. But there were some scenarios, such as the current, in which he would swallow his pride and ask for assistance. He knew when to have confidence, and when to be humbled.