V M Indigo Chain of Events

Neona Black

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Crevan - not at all unlike a wild fox - cautiously stalked through the littered underbrush in some backwoods area of a nameless island in the Indigo Chain. His course leather boots stepped carefully amongst the fallen leaves as he avoided sticks that he dared not test for sound. The heavy rains this morning left the grounds saturated and speckled, combined with the misty drizzled each divot and crevasse was filled to the brim with rainwater. No matter the lightness of which he stepped, his pure weight sunk him slightly, and upon pulling his boot away the print left behind was immediately taken over by a small flood.

As if the tropical island couldn't get enough water, Crevan came across a river next. He heard the steady beat of moving water, shushing and sobbing gently.

The realization that a creek couldn't cry came - to his embarrassment - after a generous time of listening to the sounds of sorrow.

The young man, about 6 foot tall, with long salt and pepper hair that fell freely past his shoulders, approached the stream with a morbid sense of curiosity. He was dressed in leathers and cloth, all some shade of dark and rutty that did well to help the youth blend into the background. His eyes narrowed as they probed the banks for the source of quieted sadness. If he hadn’t been so interested, however, Crevan might have missed the glint from a jewel buried deep within the muck.

The river had swelled during the raining season and carved part of the side out from under a nearby rope and plank bridge. In the gloomy forecast of thickly clouded skies that threatened to downpour, or depending on how you viewed life at that moment - promised, the foreigner’s lustrous silver eyes fell upon an atmospherically appropriate scene. There in the hollowed out bank lay a young girl’s body as she wept into the pillow of mud. He heard her struggle to keep from wailing out despite the level of seclusion she'd dug herself in.

~*+*~​

Neona has felt an array of things in her life…

While most thirteen-year-olds are more than willing to volunteer their claims to heartbreak and betrayal, very rarely do they know it in the truest sense. Not every nine-year-old knows the pain of abandonment, Neona surely hadn’t. Of course, that was before the truth of reality struck her in the face with a fierce back hand. She vaguely still hoped for her mother’s return.

Yet, every time she revisited the memory of her mom’s leaving, the clarity of the situation became increasingly obvious. The quake in her voice as she promised a young child she would return when her business is finished. The defeated look in her tear-brimmed eyes as she smiled weakly at her daughter to instill false confidence. Also the smallest hint of remorse that trickled through her mask of tortured courage as she offered up the trinket of a bracelet with simple but gaudy glass beads as some mild gesture of peace in the future.\

How could her mother do this to her?

As tears smeared the lightly caked dirty on her bruised cheeks, the young girl’s vision blurred, and she screamed angrily down at the memory of her mother with the knowledge of the present. “NO! I HATE YOU!”





Despite the fury behind the rash words, they cut deep into her own battered heart...
 

Neona Black

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That was extremely hard to witness. Without knowing anything about her, he could sense her frustration and pain. It was no different than the pained cry of a single wolf after his pack was wiped out. The oddly vivid image lingered in his mind.

It was even harder to accept and just stand to the side. Crevan would later realize his draw to her being much more than just a passing fancy, but for now, it was raking at his soul that this human was in so much pain. Luna would frown upon him if he forsook her like the rest of her damned world has seemed to.

With the same painstakingly care, the young man of only eighteen circled around and with the lightest touch crossed the bridge. Through her angry fit and burning tears, she never heard a thing, not that he made much noise even on the old planks of wood. As an expert in stealth, he took pride in getting the jump on both bulky fighter types, and heartbreaking women.

On the other side, he slipped over to the edge of the bank. He grabbed a set of sturdy roots to better control his descend prior to any further steps. With his knees sunken into the saturated mud and the chilled soggy sensation caressing his thighs, he allowed his body to fall forward so that his chest landed at the curve of the sloping bank. His hair fell like a curtain into view before his face appeared, smiling like the clever man he clearly thought himself of.

“There she is, a gorgeous gem lying in wait for me to uncover.” he greeted charmingly.

There was the young girl he’d been hearing. She ceased her most current actions upon his arrival, and with some fright pushed herself deeper into the hole, like a wounded animal fearful for the return of the human who harmed her. Her big gold eyes have gone wide with shock and surprise, the tears still rolling down her childish pudgy cheeks.

She was a pitiful sight and a half, to say the least.

He clicked his tongue, frowning as he shook his head. “Oh no, luv. Don’t be frightened of harmless little me.” he cooed.

Crevan let go of one-half of the roots as he twisted his body and allowed gravity to pull him down. A moment later he landed right side up, taking a knee as he did, in the equally soggy mush that was the bank. He ignored the swiftly moving water behind him and focused deeply on her. His silver eyes smile gently as he offered his hand towards her. It was bare, but his long black nails seemed to make the girl hesitate.

“Won’t you please come out of there? It’s no place for a pretty girl like yourself.”

~*+*~​

Neona’s vision was blurry from her crying, she could feel they were irritated and would be red by the time she returned home if not already. First, she thought he was a wild fox come to curiously look in on her, but then he spoke and surely a vulpine couldn’t do that.

His quick movements were simply a headache to try to keep up with, or perhaps it was a headache that made it difficult to focus on the movement. In the end, he was planted at the mouth of her hole of sorrow, bent just slightly so she could see his youthful handsome face through his aged hair. He offered up the sweetest smile and it shattered her weakened defenses. Neona turned her head away with the faintest blush betraying her.

He must have seen right through her because a moment later he was sweetly coaxing her to abandon her only corner of the world for him. Neona thought about the dangers of trusting anyone she didn't already know, only to reflect on how much she'd been hurt by people she did. Part of her soul questioned why she even concerned herself with the possibilities, death would most likely be an improvement in her life.

Again he offered his hand, it stretched out with the palm up, nails black and sharp like a demon's. In her mind, it was as if the gods had forsaken her and now a devil appeared with kindness and a smile she could trust. Again, she welcomed the ominous ideas in her head over the harsh reality. In short, if he has come to swallow her up she welcomed it.

The young girl crawled to her hands and knees, sitting up as best she could in the cramped space, and while keeping her eyes on him wiped the mud off on a clean spot in her dress. With the same patience as a demon collecting lost souls for a disastrous plan, he waited with the same beckoning hand and welcoming grin. When she thought the level of muck on her hand was minimized to an acceptable amount Neona reached for his offered paw.

Part of her subconscious reminded her that in insanity one often saw things that did not exist. The dirty fingers stopped several inches from his, hesitation sinking into her actions and causing them to curl away from the stranger. Not because of a sudden lack of trust in him and whatever may come next, but a lack of trust in his existence. He was truly beautiful and invited her with a friendliness she only ever imagined coming her way in life. Perhaps because it was so fantastical did she not believe it.

“Are you real?” she asked, a sad shake in her voice.

“Of course I am, luv.” he answered, kindly.

“You won't turn to nothing when I touch you?” she questioned.

He chuckled at her. “No, sweetie. I am flesh and blood.”

“Not a demon?” she almost sounded disappointed.

“Not unless you count me a handsome devil.” he casually joked.

“Well… You are handsome,” she admitted.

“Do you really mean that? I am but a wretched rascal, a troublemaking trickster if you will. But if a pretty girl like yourself uses such kind words, I would have to believe them.”

Neona blushed again. “I think you are very attractive, I do.”

“Then attractive I am.” his silver eyes shimmered under her gaze. “Will you take my hand? I would like to cherish your company someplace where the mud can't sink into my boots.”

“Only if you promise me you aren't another one of my dreams…”

“Have you been lied to by many fantasies?”

Neona paused, then nodded slowly - her head heavy with misery. “I've also been lied to by real people, but when the lies come from myself it hurts more.”

His hand drifted downward about an inch and his fingers folded around her pained heart… “I am really, I promise you. I can prove it.”

“How?”

“What is your name?” he asked quickly.

“Neona. Why?”

The stranger smiled broadly if not a bit proudly. “If I weren't real I would have known that, wouldn't I?”

Neona pursed her lips in a pout. She couldn’t think of a time when her imagination didn’t know her name, but she also couldn’t remember all of those who did know.

“Please take my hand.” he insisted.

“Mine is dirty…” she admitted like that was the real reason for her stubbornness.

“I don't mind,” he explained simply.

He gave her a sweet smile again, the same one that tore through her walls before. Neona looked away with the same gentle blush before placing her hand and blind trust in his extended one.

Upon receiving the hand he’d been after his long fingers wrap ever so gently around them, the nails barely grazing her skin. His thumb did rub along the back of her knuckles, brushing the wet dirt off a bruise. If he noticed, he didn’t show it to Neona but her tired muscles tensed up at the idea that he would.

“Good, now come out of there Neona, jewels as fine as you should be presented to the world. Under careful observation, of course,” he explained to her as he lightly pulled her along, out of the grave-cold hole. She did her best to hurry along, if only because she did not want to make him stay where he’d been waiting a moment longer.

“You will be disappointed to know that I am not a jewel like you claim…” Neona tried to explain, he seemed confused. She was little more than garbage. Why else would her parents discard her as they have?

“Nonsense.” he insisted he was right. Maybe in another light, it would have been arrogant, but to a girl who’s given up on self-worth, it was an argument she didn’t know how to combat. “I know a valuable gem when I see one. I ought to. I am a pirate of sorts.” When Neona stood in what little light the dark skies allowed them, his smile continued to beam as if he were correct.

She was all of about 5 foot tall, caked from head to toe in the rich brown wet earth. Her hair fell to her navel in clumps, the color of the ocean mixed with the unbecoming blackish-brown. Between patches of mud, her milky white flesh could be seen. In other places, the heavier packed sludge attempted to cover, deep bluish-purple marks. To the untrained eye, it wouldn’t stand out, but she noticed him staring. Neona quickly covered her arm where her father had grabbed her earlier today. “You aren’t really a pirate, are you?”

“I am.” He answered, confidently. Then he added, “Of sorts.” and began to lead her up the bank.

“What does that mean?” Neona asked, following his lead. Her foot slid initially as he tried to pull her up the bank.

“Well. Like a pirate, I scour the world looking for treasure. Unlike one of those sea dogs, I am not bound to water.” he guided her up the slope and now they walked hand in hand towards the smell of town.

“So you are but a thief?”

“In a way.” he smiled back at her. “I assure you though, I am a good guy.”

Neona thought about what that could mean as she followed him. Her free hand - as in the one she did not have in his - still clung to the arm he'd been inspecting. “How does that work, then?”

“I don’t rape and pillage, it's unbecoming.” He said dryly, but with a smile.

She assessed it was a joke, not a very good one. “What about the families that you steal from?”

“Cleanse those thoughts from your mind, I would never take something of monetary value from anyone who couldn’t afford to lose it. Furthermore, my skills as a thief are primarily used to take things back from villainous figures. Especially if they had previously belonged to me or my kind.”

He spoke with the same flamboyant flare as most of the storytellers on the streets do. Neona rather liked his style though, the other’s seems to cater to girls and boys much younger than her. “You don’t look like a bard…”

“A bard?”

“Those men and women who talk about adventures in faraway lands… They usually sing.”

“That is because if you heard me sing, you would cringe.” The stranger joked at his own expense. It made her laugh. “Your smile makes you look radiant… You should wear it more often.”

“Cheeky, aren’t you?”

“Dashing rogues have to be.”

Neona smiled for him: Crisp and bright. “As do demons.”
 

Neona Black

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Neona waded through the mud and trees with this stranger without another word on her behalf. But not from him. His voice and tales of past adventure and theft worked together to enchant her. At that point he spoke about the pirate - from which he stole the title - he explained how he recovered an ancient artifact that was legendary among the Exalted beings, an item thought to be lost to the past and stories alike. He mentioned the name of it about ten paces back, but she’d forgotten it already.

He told her how he stalked the pirate, whose name she also forgot very quickly, for a week at sea. As he was attacking a lone ship for the goods, this stranger and his convinced crew attacked the pirate. There was a long battle, difficult and gruesome based on the minimum details given to the young girl. Neona was surprised that he would actually tell her he lost this fight. Most valiant tales ended happily ever after and the hero perfectly fine in the end.

The man then spoke of the worse of his capture. The fight ended only after the captain of his ship fell by the sword, he’d been told by the others in the cell they shared about the killing blow. He himself had been wounded heavily during the fight, and only stopped when he could only hear his own blade clashing against the other, forced to give up with the lot. He’d been gathered up with the rest of the survivors and thrown in the brig like that. A large number of wounded died from loss of blood in the first hour, some didn't make it through the night, but this pirate-to-be had been blessed. He sounded crazy for saying the Goddess Luna had helped him survive, but the thirteen-year-old girl was not very religious.

The stranger continued to tell her that he’d been singled out by the crew, desperate for their lives and understandably human for the reasons they did. He told her that he’d been dragged away by the hair and tortured, but spared her the details other than briefly explaining he’d been beaten almost for three days straight. She didn't even realize how temporarily uncomfortable she'd become, so much so she'd physically showed it. He must have noticed and ceased the story gingerly for her sake.

“But how did you escape?” she asked, her steps coming to a stop when the question appeared in mind. She looked up and watched him show cautious surprise and a dash of awkwardness before returning to the excitement he wanted to share.

“Captain Irek himself summoned me and questioned me over a couple glasses of a sweet brandy. He let me drink because he was sure it would loosen my tongue, or make me so pathetic that I couldn’t fight him when he was done with me. As he told me he’d sell me to some slave traders that wouldn’t blink at the idea of breaking my legs, I spotted my aspiration.” He had stopped as well, holding out his hand in a dramatic way. He let his hand mystically wave like he was pretending to show her what he’d seen that day. “There on the mantle, my prize!”

Neona, despite herself, gasped in amazement.

“I let him think I was a lightweight, and when he was done with his questions, he came towards me with his belt and some shackles. I feinted inebriation and confusion, as well as the joyful mood of a fool. When he came near I smashed the tumbler on him and we fought until he was dead.” He put effort and emotion in his words, creating an entertaining story for his companion. Making a motion with his hand that mimed what it looked like to break a glass cup on the head of his adversary.

The girl beside him watched as he made more flourished movements. He acted out his fight after that, dodging and punching at the air. “You killed him?” She exclaimed but in a quietly hushed voice as not to get him into an unknown trouble that might be lurking behind the line of woods.

He smiled at her, his devilish silver eyes pierced through her again. The next moment though, she could see his joyous expression had been replaced with a more somber look as the grin vanished. “I did," he admitted. "I have killed many men.” then his eyes locked onto her. “Does that scare you, Neona?”

As the youthful girl shook her head, the clumps of hair flew loosely around, the anchors of mud on the ends crumbled upon gentle impact against her body. She looked back up at him with admiration, not fear. “No, sir.”

“Oh… How rude of me,” he said, pleased by her response as apparent in the corners of his mouth pulling high on his face, but apparently, something else taking importance in his mind. He reached into his pack, pulling out a cloth. His skilled hands unwrapped what was inside the cloth. Promptly he also pocketed it back into the pack, too quickly for Neona’s untrained eyes. She was much too distracted by his actions either way as he took her hand and began to gently rub the dirt off the back of it with the softest cloth she'd ever felt before. “I didn’t even introduce myself,” he explained, putting his non-dominant hand behind his back. “Crevan.” he introduced himself, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on her hand.

His kiss felt lighter than a rose’s petals, and yet it stirred a full storm of emotions in the girl. She could hear the thunder rolling in her ears, felt the heat of the lightning on her face, - spreading through her cheeks and burning to the tips of her ears - and strong winds blowing her away. She was thankful that the dirt was covering her as she locked eyes with his. She could just make out her hazel-gold eyes in the glossy ice-silver mirrors that he looked back at her with. In that instant, she understood he was watching for her reaction.

Neona wrenched her hand from his and cradled it against her racing heart. “Ch-Charmed.” she stuttered as politely as she could with a shaking voice.

He chuckled before responding. “So it would seem.” his smile slid smoothly back into place.
 
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