C
Clover
A warm, orange glow washed over Clover as he lay stiff upon a plush surface. The only feeling that pulsed throughout his numbed body was a deep sense of disorientation. Adjusting to the light, his groggy eyes began to make out faint shapes. Wooden beams running across the ceiling. The shadow of a flickering lantern. A quick glance around revealed nothing more than a quaint, humble room. Aside from the desk upon which the aforementioned lantern sat, it was almost barren. Pushing himself upwards to investigate further, a sharp pain shot through his torso and down to his toes. Falling backwards, he cursed through clenched teeth.
"Z-zounds!" He yelped. As if on command, the door at the end of the room creaked open slowly. Through it, a stout figure entered.
"Oh dear. Are you awake?" She cooed. Clomping across the floor to the window next to the bed, she gave little warning before flinging the blinds open and filling the dim room with blinding, yellow light. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." Clover squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sun that now enveloped him. Looking downwards, his gaze met with that of a young lady.
Wider than she was long, you'd be forgiven for not deducing that she was naught but a few years older than Clover. A frayed, matted head of hair was tied loosely into a sloppy bun, accompanying a tired face. Stressed and wrinkled, it could have only been the face of somebody who had been through a lifetime of hardships. A damp rag had bloated and sank to the bottom of the bowl of water that she carried in her hands.
"You were running a fever earlier," the woman said, placing the warm cloth on his forehead. "If I'd have known you'd be awake, I would have brought you something to eat. Poor dear, you must be starving." Clover tried elevating himself to a sitting position once more, to no avail. As he collapsed yet again, the woman shook her head. "I wouldn't recommend that, dear. You've got a rather nasty wound, 'bout the size of a coin, just to the right of your belly. It's a wonder it wasn't infected, floating out in those waters"
Biting his tongue to prevent himself from cursing in front of a lady, he took a deep breath and swallowed nothing in particular. "W-water...?", sputtered Clover. The honey-tongued politician was out of his element, barely managing to croak out a single word.
"Yes," the woman replied dryly. "We fished you out of the ocean not too long ago. I volunteered myself to care for you until you came back to your senses. You sound parched. Would you like me to get you a drink?" Clover only nodded in response. As the woman left him once again, he felt humiliation course throughout his veins.
Here laid the great and honorable High Councilor Clover, half-naked in the bed of a stranger and completely helpless. If his face could have been any redder, it would have rivaled the crimson feathers of a cardinal in the winter snow. His caretaker reentered the room, this time with a glass and a pitcher full of water. "It's a bit lukewarm, but I'm afraid it's the best we can do." Clover didn't hesitate in snatching the glass from her hands, guzzling the whole thing in mere seconds.
The woman snickered as he caught his breath, pouring him another glass. "You still have a fire in that heart. That's encouraging to see!" More gently this time, Clover took the cup again, taking another large sip. Coughing, he wiped what was left off of the brim of his lips. His parched body rejuvenated, he tried speaking once more. "I am so-", he paused. Rebuilding his composure, he spoke his first full sentence since waking up. "I'm sorry for my savage behavior. It's quite unfitting for a man of my rank. Please, what's your name?"
The woman grinned. "I suspected as much. You're from the surface. No denizen of the ocean is so kempt. The name is Kimberly. Kimberly Walish. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I think." Kimberly outstretched her hand towards Clover, which he grasped gently and shook, though the look of confusion on his face had only grown more apparent.
"Surface?" He inquired. "What do you mean by 'surface?’ Why do you have a second name?"
The grin faded from Kimberly's face. "Oh. Oh dear. You're not from around here, are you?"
Clover tried to swallow the anxiety that was now sitting in the back of his throat like a lump, visibly shaken. "Wait", he spat, without any of his usual pomp or grace. "This is Magonus, is it not?" Kimberly sat the bowl down, wearing a new look of concern on her face. "Magonus? Dear, I've heard of at least six different planets, but never once have I heard of a 'Magonus'. You're on the planet of Opaleon."
"P-planets?", Clover stuttered. "More than one?" Garnering no response from the clearly confused woman, Clover summoned any strength he had left in his body to push himself off of the suspended mattress. Though the searing pain persisted, he was successful in finding his footing on the hardwood floor. Standing tall, he looked Kimberly directly in the eyes. "Lady Kimberly," he began, "I need anything that I may have possibly had on me when I was rescued."
"You had a set of armor and a weapon. They're in the broom closet just down the hall," Kimberly responded. "Please, sir! I implore you to stay awhile longer. You're in no shape to go off wandering!" Clover ducked underneath the door frame, Kimberly following close behind.
"I have questions, and I intend to find the answers," Clover said. "I need to be taken to dry land as soon as possible. Your efforts would be well-compensated" Kimberly looked solemnly down at the ground.
"I'm afraid that might be harder than you think."
"Z-zounds!" He yelped. As if on command, the door at the end of the room creaked open slowly. Through it, a stout figure entered.
"Oh dear. Are you awake?" She cooed. Clomping across the floor to the window next to the bed, she gave little warning before flinging the blinds open and filling the dim room with blinding, yellow light. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." Clover squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sun that now enveloped him. Looking downwards, his gaze met with that of a young lady.
Wider than she was long, you'd be forgiven for not deducing that she was naught but a few years older than Clover. A frayed, matted head of hair was tied loosely into a sloppy bun, accompanying a tired face. Stressed and wrinkled, it could have only been the face of somebody who had been through a lifetime of hardships. A damp rag had bloated and sank to the bottom of the bowl of water that she carried in her hands.
"You were running a fever earlier," the woman said, placing the warm cloth on his forehead. "If I'd have known you'd be awake, I would have brought you something to eat. Poor dear, you must be starving." Clover tried elevating himself to a sitting position once more, to no avail. As he collapsed yet again, the woman shook her head. "I wouldn't recommend that, dear. You've got a rather nasty wound, 'bout the size of a coin, just to the right of your belly. It's a wonder it wasn't infected, floating out in those waters"
Biting his tongue to prevent himself from cursing in front of a lady, he took a deep breath and swallowed nothing in particular. "W-water...?", sputtered Clover. The honey-tongued politician was out of his element, barely managing to croak out a single word.
"Yes," the woman replied dryly. "We fished you out of the ocean not too long ago. I volunteered myself to care for you until you came back to your senses. You sound parched. Would you like me to get you a drink?" Clover only nodded in response. As the woman left him once again, he felt humiliation course throughout his veins.
Here laid the great and honorable High Councilor Clover, half-naked in the bed of a stranger and completely helpless. If his face could have been any redder, it would have rivaled the crimson feathers of a cardinal in the winter snow. His caretaker reentered the room, this time with a glass and a pitcher full of water. "It's a bit lukewarm, but I'm afraid it's the best we can do." Clover didn't hesitate in snatching the glass from her hands, guzzling the whole thing in mere seconds.
The woman snickered as he caught his breath, pouring him another glass. "You still have a fire in that heart. That's encouraging to see!" More gently this time, Clover took the cup again, taking another large sip. Coughing, he wiped what was left off of the brim of his lips. His parched body rejuvenated, he tried speaking once more. "I am so-", he paused. Rebuilding his composure, he spoke his first full sentence since waking up. "I'm sorry for my savage behavior. It's quite unfitting for a man of my rank. Please, what's your name?"
The woman grinned. "I suspected as much. You're from the surface. No denizen of the ocean is so kempt. The name is Kimberly. Kimberly Walish. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, I think." Kimberly outstretched her hand towards Clover, which he grasped gently and shook, though the look of confusion on his face had only grown more apparent.
"Surface?" He inquired. "What do you mean by 'surface?’ Why do you have a second name?"
The grin faded from Kimberly's face. "Oh. Oh dear. You're not from around here, are you?"
Clover tried to swallow the anxiety that was now sitting in the back of his throat like a lump, visibly shaken. "Wait", he spat, without any of his usual pomp or grace. "This is Magonus, is it not?" Kimberly sat the bowl down, wearing a new look of concern on her face. "Magonus? Dear, I've heard of at least six different planets, but never once have I heard of a 'Magonus'. You're on the planet of Opaleon."
"P-planets?", Clover stuttered. "More than one?" Garnering no response from the clearly confused woman, Clover summoned any strength he had left in his body to push himself off of the suspended mattress. Though the searing pain persisted, he was successful in finding his footing on the hardwood floor. Standing tall, he looked Kimberly directly in the eyes. "Lady Kimberly," he began, "I need anything that I may have possibly had on me when I was rescued."
"You had a set of armor and a weapon. They're in the broom closet just down the hall," Kimberly responded. "Please, sir! I implore you to stay awhile longer. You're in no shape to go off wandering!" Clover ducked underneath the door frame, Kimberly following close behind.
"I have questions, and I intend to find the answers," Clover said. "I need to be taken to dry land as soon as possible. Your efforts would be well-compensated" Kimberly looked solemnly down at the ground.
"I'm afraid that might be harder than you think."