Prose and Prosody

A serial fiction archive by Chris Rodriguez.

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[SaD] #01 After a botched pickpocketing job turns violent, Rannu tries to escape unscathed. 700 Words, ~3:30 on average Published on 2015-08-15 12:51:00 -0400

Running quickly through the silty Summer streets of the city, trailing a mob of be-robbed and vengeful music lovers behind, Rannu realized that a more conventional thought for her to have might be something along the lines of:

I hope I make it out of this alive!

This made a small smirk paint itself across her face, briefly… Until another thought supplanted it, the one which was organically in her head once again after one of Baje’s “performances”:

I can’t believe he blew it _again_!

She darted past this cart and down that alley, up over the garden wall and through the milling, self-involved people who frequented it. The flowing robes and wide sleeves of her Theoran cowl belied the grace and poise she’d worked so hard to cultivate: Another reason she chose it, aside from the fact that it hid her face so well.

Rannu stopped short, the heavy, wooden beads of that hood softly smacking into her cheeks (and rattling their scorn with her for stopping): A huge caravan had blocked off this entire road, into the alleys to either side. She took the opportunity to honor both those who got her here (Baje) and those who were looking to guide her through the future (The Mob and Caravan): She reared back, flipping the beads out of her way, and spat hard on the ground next to her.

She then brought her right leg around, tracing a semi-circle outside of the spit, and spun herself underneath the wagon in front of her, grasping on to its bottom. Her confident smirk reemerged, firmly painting itself on her face as she began to climb underneath the wagon, towards the left alleyway.

She silently thanked Feju, who’d taught her that spitting trick years ago. May you rest in piece, old friend.

She made it into the alley, and ran a short way before coming to a specific section of the wall. Three taps to find the right part, which came away easily under her skilled hands. She looked around her as she did, out of habit: She was confident no one was here, and that they could not follow her this far. But still…

She still had some modesty.

She stripped off the dusty Theoran garb. Wish it weren’t so bulky… But what are you gonna do? Emptying her “findings” into the bag, she stowed the thick garb in the wall, taking the time to seal it back up before doing anything else. She stepped back, taking a long, hard look at the wall… and nodded.

Can’t very well go around parading in my small-clothes… She thought as she rummaged through her bag. She found a pair of pale pink breeches and an off-white tunic, which she hastily put on. Bag slung around her shoulders, she side-stepped the foul smelling puddle of wash water thrown from one of the windows, and walked out into the open.

Moment of truth! She thought as the sun shone softly on her terra-cotta brown skin. If anyone saw me, they’ll surely be on me now. Taking a slow, deep breath, she began to stroll across the bustling square. The raucous sounds, flavorful smells, and claustrophobic feel of a busy market day washed over her as she casually walked into the thick of things.

She stopped here and there: Once to smell some flowers, and another to sit by a fountain and look around for a bit. Can’t have a repeat of Saulis… Gotta make sure I’m alone. She took some money out of one of her pilfered purses and bought a bag of chyen, sipping it softly as she watched people rush this way and that.

About 10 minutes later, she decided she’d waited long enough. She discarded the now empty bag, a new purpose in her steps as she made her way to a specific alley off of the square. She stepped slowly down the alley, careful not to draw any attention to herself: Third door on the left, top floor after that.

She sighed as she opened the door, making sure it was fully closed before turning a scowl at Baje as he welcomed her home.