Murmurr: A Tragedy of Two Lovers

Somewhere buried beneath the mud and fatigue, some tiny sliver of himself— a microscopic fragment of ego still lingered and it had only wished to delight in the absolute tomfoolery of these inebriated degenerates. Alas, he was a small, tired child and not his old gremliny-self. There would be no shenanigans today.

Dainty fingers wrap around the woman's hand in quiet resignation. Regardless of his directive, there was little good in a death march on an empty stomach— with an empty head. Khalik needed to recoup, needed to rest... Tomorrow would be a better day.

"I want gyro." it was a petulant demand delivered through sleepy murmurs, cute and harmless.

The woman would offer him a sweet smile at his words. Why of course he was just a hungry boy, by the looks of him he hadn't eaten well his entire life. She wasn't looking to be his mother, but the woman had a knack for bringing in lost strays. It was as much a hobby as a life style at this point. Her red stained lips parted, the stench of smoke wafting on the air as she spoke once more.

"I'm sure we can get you some, my name is Mary, take my hand boy and you'll have as much gyro as you need tonight. The only thing I ask, is if you can give me your name before we head on out?"

There was power in names, she knew that well. So many spat hers out if it was poison. For a child, it should be a thing of pride, something to grow into. If this boy owned anything, it had to be a name. Worry and curiosity permeated her.   "I can help you get on your feet if you'd like, but I promise that Gammorah isn't a very welcoming city for stray children."

As she gave her warning, they would head on out to look for some Gyro.



As the young boy settled in for the story Ali would begin to paint the picture. First, he had to start with the setting, where it would all begin. A harp, carried by his mother would begin to pluck gently matching the cadence of Ali.

"This story begins fifteen years ago, in a city where the reeds stayed gold, the springs were fresh and the salty coast revitalized all manner of man and beast. A land without a ruler, a land without an army." he began the story, his words hoping, but worry lurked behind.

"The people enjoyed art, stories, games, all manners of cuisine! To many, it was a paradise, one that many of us use to know. But as most of us know, that does not always last...." The harp started to slow down, sharper stronger plucks leading off of every word.

"The sun would turn black and golden rods would lighten up the sky. People would come bringing gifts and curses alike. There were many families that would cave, and almost double would fight back. It was but just the beginning of Jericho's end."

The story would continue, but Gero would remember one thing from the story. While he was not there long, He was born in Jericho years ago.


The young girl seemed to have infinite curiosity in her eyes. Asking her brother what felt like a flurry of questions when it was anything but. Furcas, would let off a little laugh, lowering himself down to her level. She could see his eyes, the gold that glittered in them, the bronze that was his skin.

"Dear Sparrow, you know father has always been a fan of sculpture. A garden of the finest art, he seems to prefer the works of man than to nature." he would say, a bit of longing rested on his tongue. The sorrowful tone would disappear in a flash as he continued to address his little sister.

[color=#6699cc]"I train for you, for our people. These are uncertain times, King David is making people pick their allegiance. He seems to be grooming an heir, and it's making people weary. The need someone strong, someone determined and resolute to give them some source of comfort. I know not if that is me, but I can try my best to support such an idea."


While Rokurou would stay quiet he would see the people still waiting to eat. His father, standing before the crowd was proud and tall. As he faced them all he held a drinking horn in hand. Raised high into the air some mead would spill out. The air was sweet, and the voices filled with joy. "I thank ye all for gathering here, I won't hold yer up until the guest of honor has arrived. But we rejoice! My boy Ymir, the greatest warrior in 5 generations will return with goods from our new lands! Soon, we shall know more than the snow, more than the constant war. War should be for glory, for joy!"

It was an odd toast, but it was a toast nonetheless.

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Khalik peered up to Mary, those dull red eyes sparked by curiosity and... embarrassment? Had he... no name? He certainly had one, Khalik-I-Sabbah, government name, but not one from dear old dad. Did his father fail to name him? He did, didn't he. How else could a young child, probably heavily traumatised, not recall their own name? Amnesia? Complete utter nonsense.... Where was he?

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, I don't... know." His eyes sunk like his posture. Why did she have to ask the hard hitting questions. "Maybe, you can call me... uuuuuuuuh." 404 error encountered. Please reboot your Khalik.

As everyone took their seats, Rokurou excitedly took his seat next to his father. The story that had been told here, his new life had filled him with a hope and happiness that honestly made him want to not wake from this or even want it to end. Seeing the many faces of his own kind happy and merry. His mother and father happy, together even. The ability to have a sibling and grow up in a setting that he longed for made this test...no this change even greater than he had hoped. As he looked around he could see the smiling faces of people but one seat sat unoccupied. Who...did it belong to? In his own life he did not remember siblings or even have a chance to experience this, but the memories of both his own and this new life blurred together. Someone was meant to sit there.

He motioned his mouth to pose the question before his father had spoken up, he knew. Ymir. The eldest and strongest among them. He was coming back with something that would make their lives easier, better even. While a smile of happiness grew along his face he could not help but pine for that same reaction. That feeling of being the best and everyone cheering for his accolades. He wanted the glory and fame that came with being the strongest and something inside of him stirred. He aspired to be everything his elder brother was...and more. As the toast was made, he would look to his father with seriousness in his eyes as he spoke," I'm going to make you proud da...I will make sure when I grow up I bring even greater honor and glory to our name...our family."

The poor boy didn't even have a name or not one that he knew. She couldn't think of children that didn't even own a name. It was a hard thing to see and to face, but still, it was something that could be remedied, she didn't want to be a mother, she wasn't the type. But it felt too cruel, to let him be this way without even a thing to own. "Well that's okay, I'm sure we can figure out one for you if you can't remember, so come on let's go." She took his hand, dragging him through the city.

Though it was night, there was so many lights, they were strung across the city in lanterns. People had them on booths, on buildings. It was a city that never slept, when the moon came they bring day to their own town to keep the party going. Houses had windows open, and people drinking, dancing, and doing more intimate stuff. There were fights, there were people telling stories on the streets as they bought skewers of meat. That was when they would arrive at the stand. Mary held his hand tightly. "One Gyro, some of the good shanks the boys growing, don't forget a good helping of veggies, I know you skimp sometime Habi!" She would command of the man.


"Ay an I believe ya my boy. I think you're gonna do more amazing things than I know. Now, enjoy your meal, ya brother should be here any moment. Scouts already sent word ahead of his arrival." His father turned away, grabbing a large leg of pheasant, wine, and roasted turnips with plenty of different fish. Cod, haddock, and salmon are prepared from raw to seared on sticks and diced over roasted oats. Sweet bread came next, with preserves of fruits from a foreign land.

Then, the sound of the drum, or what felt like a drum filled the hall. After a few moments, Rokurou would notice it shook the ground. Crumbs bounced up and down, the quake went up from the oak into his bones. It got louder, it was thunderous with great roaring might as the doors of the hall would be busted down in a great push. They swung open letting in frozen winds as the gates smacks against the walls. There he would stand, Ymir the prodigal son and his horde. There was 60-odd men of all shapes and size, some short some stout, some with beer belly's bigger than Roku. Behind was a caravan of great staggering horses carrying vast satchels of riches.


"I've returned my people..."


"At first the men with their golden sticks paraded the land, offering such sweet trinkets as fine silks, new meats and spices, and of course protection. It was after the third visit when they asked simply the people of Jericho to offer their labor, so some men left. And then more left, and then more until it was but the old, the children, and the women. For years things were okay, when the next men grew, they found others in the city, who they welcomed to help uplift the academy. Then, another decade passed with the men returning once again." He took a deep breath, the music became solemn once more.

The harp became uneasy, building and building with anticipation as Ali spun around in his coat. Covering his face like a veil, his voice began to rumble and turn. The harp was now high-pitched and rapid, with a constant thumping bass. "They said we had to give them up, many said no they had made a home. So they chose to show force, the might of their great golden light. Fire rained down and a tower began to rise. People became logs for the fire, and many would flee. It was only from a lion's stampede that the people could be freed." That was the last of his story.


"That is where I and Father find contention, my dear Sparrow. He thinks it's best to compromise, to placate David and his wishes when the time comes. I hear his hunger, his wants are all-consuming. Always tantalized by what he can't have, or control. I feel somber to put such woes on you but we must find strength together. I see hope, I see courage in your eyes." He would brush Zub's cheek. It was clear the memory was real in some sense. He must have had a sister in his life here.

His helmet tilted down, solemn for just a moment before answering his sister. "I don't plan on leaving soon but that time may come. Who knows what the future may bring, I know I plan to meet with a man by the name of Marax soon. Father knows of the journey and not the purpose, he asked that I bring you along to the city as he wants to keep us away while he has guests. Who I do not know." Worry lingered, it kissed the end of his words like a poison on his own hope. He was excited for the journey to come, but not for what it could bring. "Come on, father should be done soon let's just try to relax."


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Gomorrah, a city that never slept— much like New York in that sense; but, unlike New York, everybody was keeping their dirty laundry in the open. Khalik stayed close to NOT Mother Mary, bound to her care. An internal scoff was chalked into the recesses of his mind. Here he stood at the pinnacle of Freedoms, yet still he was tied down— reliant on another's kindness. There was nothing freeing about this horrid conundrum and worse— and worse yet!

It was passed his bed time.

And he was as cranky as he was hapless.

However, before Habi's stall, a day's worth, nay, a life's worth of grudges were cleansed in the inscense of cooked beef— or was it lamb— BAH! Who cares?!? The boy was drooling a waterfall at the sight of fresh meat, his ire set to retire along his hunger. Even Mary's request for extra veggie's soared over him, a refute any sane child would give, yet Khalik was completely docile. However, his peace was contigent on the promised meal, and so help Habi— help the city of Gomorrah if he be denied this delectable dish.

Solomon, do not deny him of this succor.

He wasn't there yet. He had still not proven what he could do or be. The best, and the object of his fathers eye would always be Ymir. The strongest of them. As he nodded and began to eat as the drums grew closer he could feel the boom footsteps as they echoed through the ground and reverberated through the seats and finally through his bones. He knew those footsteps. Looking at the door with a glaring intent he waited for it to slam open. Looking at the first to come in he would see his brother in all of his massive, hulking glory and knew that they were all back. As man would cheer and exclaim for the eldest son to be back, Rokurou had other plans. Setting his meal down he would reach for the wooden sword, slowly and silently. 

A small arose on his face as he moved with the nible swiftness his young body would allow him and dash toward his brother with the intent to strike him. He would wait until the elder sibling was not paying attention or at least to him was not. The youngest would attempt to strike at the right of the hulking behemoth and if he was caught...well he knew he was not yet ready to make a fight out of Ymir yet.

Habi seemed to work the lamb like a true artist, his blade caressing the curves to get the thinnest, crispiest slices he could afford. Each layer gently fell on the pita, a schmeer of a yogurt sauce, potentially tzatziki or mint sauce to compliment the hot, juicy, floral spiced meat. He added thinly sliced cabbage, and a strange red fruit thickly sliced to add extra texture. He would roll the divine meal up in parchment paper to hold in the heat. Finally, the prize would be relinquished to the young boy, he may not have had a name but he had something to fill his belly. "Now don't drop it or it's you whole be roasted next!" The man would joke, clanging his knives to scrape of the bits of the debris before wiping them with a wet rag,

"I hope that can at least do you some good, now come on, we're going to head to my apartment." Mary would say, a soft smile on her face. It was a nice moment, one she tried to hide to not give Khalik any ideas. She would help as best as she could, it didn't mean she wanted him sticking around longer than needed. His hand would feel small in hers, that was if he could hold on while he focused on his food. The sandstone complex would appear in sight soon, covered with all sorts of tapestries and carpets, mostly in shades of brown-reds and teals, the occasional splash of yellow seemed to decorate as well. Women in loosely dressed clothes seemed to flirt with men, many of them openly imbibed on wine and beer, the stench lingering in the air. The only thing stronger was the smell of meats and spices from all the nearby vendors.


While people would cheer for the returning hero, for his riches and the good glory it would bring none would notice Rokurou slip away. In such a large party, among so many voices, lights and scents he would vanish. Weaving through the crowd people all seemed to have their attention turned towards Ymir. He was serious, not much more than a smirk would grow as the people greeted him. He had met them all with pleasantries as soldiers would come carrying massive chests which to jingle with the sounds of a million little coins.

Still, it was not enough to fool Ymir, who would raise his hand, grabbing the wooden blade barehanded. It would smack against it, making a loud noise to get the attention of most of the crowd nearby. That, would cause a true smile to appear on the eldest's face. "Now now, if we were gonna play don't think it would be better to do after the party? Besides, i know you'd want Gola on your side if yer gonna fight me." He would say with a roarous laugh before letting go of his youngest brother's blade. He would offer his hand, stretching it down in order to offer the young Rokurou, so he could climb up for a seat on Ymir's shoulders.


After the story would end the people would all hold somber moods, but it would give them time to think. To ponder, while the next performance set up for the day would come. Ali had more stories to tell, but he had time to take a break for his family. The biggest performances came at night when the drinks flowed as rivers and laughs sang throughout the dark. People clapped for the little traveling troupe, but the young boy wanted some dessert, and his parents were feeling rather inclined.

"Ay my boy then lets head to one of the stalls, I'm sure we can find something you'd enjoy." He led the way, walking through tents and makeshift stalls. From what the young boy could make from the city they were currently visiting was that it seemed to all be rather new. There weren't any stable homes or walls. It seemed like a giant bizarre more than a home. There were all sorts of shops, but the one they would go to had a man who mixed ice, cream, fruits, and fragrances to make some desserts. As they approached the shop owner would prod a simple question. "Good afternoon folks, if you want the finest treat in the land you need to only pay 2 silver coins. Perfectly cool for a day that is sure to be burning, I have Rose, Melon, Mango, and Plum or all four for 7 silver."

It was quite the deal, it would just depend on what the young boy would want for his sweet treat. His father would look down with a smile, his mother too also seemed interested in getting one. "We've got the coin, you and your Ma can both get whatever you get, I plan to earn back double tonight!"


Furcas loved the playfulness of his sister, it was the best in helping hide his worry. It had filled his face, his heart with all sorts of emotion but he held firm. Fear was something that was growing in the land, his meeting with Marax was surely mysterious. Not just for his father, but for him as well. Sure he knew it had to do with protecting the people within their cities, but that was the only information he had. Their father had been making false choices, one's that seemed more harmful than good. He was a kind ruler, a carrying ruler but was there a weakness in his heart? "I would love to play a game, and I'm sure we can take a flower or two."

He would allow his sister to guide the way to the court, to start their game. It was only fair to give the young girl a start, plus he needed time to undress from his armor. It was rare, for Furcas to take off his armor. For him it was a second skin, a pride he had not taken off but to bathe, and for time most intimate. One of the most special moments in his life was playing with his sister. Once the helmet came off she would see skin of blazing bronze and hair of gold. His eyes were of the finest silver, and they would look down onto Zubaidah gently. "Well, shall we begin, I imagine we can get a game in before the meeting if I don't lose too quickly." He would tease, hyping up his dear Sparrow.

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Still too slow. There was an audible huff from the young male as he looked up into his brothers eyes and searched. Looked. He was not at the level of beating the beast in front of him but he had to. He wanted to. He NEEDED to. Looking back to his other brother he would drive the swords point onto the ground and rest both hands upon it’s pommel before looking back to Ymir,” You know we both can’t beat you but I’m not going to give up… I will be our homes next greatest hero.. after I beat you,” the words came out with a great pride as he was picked up and sat upon his brothers shoulder. He was still a kid. He was still learning. And that meant he could become stronger yet.

Frail hand clasp his meal with ruby wonderlust. To Khalik who was so hungry, so tired, this mundane commodity lobbed to him was nothingless than sacred, and he treated it as such. An abundance of caution was weighed with every action as little fingers and arms transported the Gyros from Habi to a hungry maw. A waterfall nearly surged from Khalik's maw before his teeth found its mark. Little ivory, carefully, pierced into his prize.

Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world — and, though Gomorrah's remains unwashed, Khalik's exhaustion, in all its forms, melted into euphoria. On a day as poor as this, a boy could cry from a culinary masterpiece such as this— he did nearly cry! Wet rubies looked from his meal to Habi, his nose involuntarily twitching "M-my compliments...*sniffle...* my compliments to the— the chef!" The poor boy would have more to say, but not Mom beckoned him homeward bound. So, with Mary did he travel, all the while crying out the Good Lords above that Habi... Well Habi was a real one. I paraphrased of course.

Back at Mary's apartment, the nameless orphan had settled down, his utterings of praise for the stall owner having tappered out with his second wind. Once more exhaustion spread like ivy through his muscles, and aches racked him. Still, that pink globule rattling around in his skull was happy. Khalik skimmed the front of the apartment's complex and all its lavish decor, but his eyes were caught by other interests, the interests of the people. With his brain somewhat refreshed by Habi's legendary culinary skills, he was properly observing his surroundings— respectfully looking at the culture, some would say. Yes, respectfully looking at the culture... But their didn't seem like much. Everyone was either off on trip, down at the bottom of the barrel, or hooking it up with each other. On and on, like a record, a ceaseless revolution of degeneracy. Normally, Khalik doesn't suffer culture shock— normally, cultures suffers shocks from Khalik— yet, in his wandering youth, he had never found city so depraved of rules and laws... It was kind of neat.

The young boy could see the who room on his brother's shoulder. They were all rather large, strength and might seemed to be the creed of his people as he would see people bump heads as they poured down great horns of ale. People who would seem to shovel small birds in their mouths, legs of great beasts. Loaves of bread pillowy enough to be beds. The sweet smell of all the food filled the air.

Once his brother would take his seat he would set the young boy down next to him, he would look over towards Gola who seemed to be avoidant of his family. Looking away the pouting boy would enjoy his food, and he too would soon be caught in the laughs. The night would soon fade into a blur, but Ymir could not help but keep glancing at his brother. The party would go on till late in the night even.

"Well I think its time for me to take some of my new friends to my room." Ymir would roar patting his baby brother on the head once again. "

Ymir had a broad smile on his face as he walked up to his compatriots who were a group of young ladies all fawning over him. While he was spending time with women he deemed important the most important woman in Roku's life would get his attention, his mother. "Come here my sweet boy, I think it's time you get some rest even Gola has gotten some sleep. Tomorrow while your father is busy I plan on taking the three of you fishing."



When the two of them entered the complex there was so much smoke from the individuals who wished to burn the night away. Their eyes were glazed over and their bodies flooded from their rooms, that was until they reached the end of the hall, after walking past an atrium filled with dancing bodies and roaring flames.

Even in the doorway the noise and light seeped in, the room itself was pitch black as the windows were shut. The window shutters block the noise of the city from getting in. Still, she allowed for the ruckus of the building's other tenants to flood in.

"You should be able to get a good night's rest, I don't work much during the day but I've already finished my rounds, I've made more than enough." Mary would lie to the boy, trying to give him some sort of comfort as she would light candles. Just for a bit, she offered him her bed which wasn't much but it was still better than the blanket and roll she was wanting to use.



The games they played would provide some enjoyment for Furcas. His sister had truly followed through on her claims, the young Sparrow had caused their games to go back and forth. By the time they were finished it would've been an even match between the two of them. "You did well to follow true with your words Sparrow, but I do not think a spar is what you'd wish for."

At this point, it was as if he was just trying to stall, to hold off time until they saw their father. In all honesty, it was all the young man was doing. The weight of what was to come was a lot, and it was the anticipation of the possibility. That was when a boom would come from the palace. It sounded like the meeting was over.


Once Gero had acquired his Ice cream the young man would be walked around the makeshift city a bit more. His parents would try to show him all sorts of snacks, little trinkets they saw that looked interesting. It was a day for them to relax but it would not last forever. The night would soon come, the stars would light up the sky as torches would light to match their illumination as well.

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Khalik had entrusted his care to Mary, so the poor boy followed her through the masses of narcotic flesh bags. A sea of glossy marbles reflect Gomorrah's sunken novelty, one the boy carefully tip-toed around. Deeper into the complex they tread, into the heart of the apartment where a steady beat did play. It fouled the night's tranquility and the crisp flames contaminated the pale maiden's gift— one that would go to waste anyhow as stowed his tired form away.

It was not worth the effort to argue, nor would it be polite, with Mary. Kindness like this was no doubt scarce on his journey, and a clean bed may even be scarcer. Khalik would offer his thanks before stepping two steps to the left and flopping, like a fished heaved ashore, onto the sheets. Not even nuzzled beneath the sheets, yet his conscious couldn't be further from here. Hopefully tomorrow would be better for the little one. Hopefully, he remembered to find his Father's friend...

Hopefully.

The sight had been magnificent to say the least. He knew of his brother to be a full Imachuk at least from these memories of his, but even still he wondered what it was like to be of this height...a true giant. He could see it all from here. The smiles and cheers of the people and even the aroma of the food was enhanced from up here. As he was sat down his eyes would trace over to his brother, Gola, who had been acting different to say the least. he didn't like it or rather he knew something was off. But for the night he ate and laughed and when people began to trickle out he would look back over to his brother. It seemed he was going to keep his new "friends" company which he did not understand but it made sense. Grabbing his brothers hand he would look up to him with fire in his eyes," You train me when you are done yes?," he knew what the question meant and once the answer was given he would turn and watch as the group left. The warm embrace he had missed in his previous life had overtaken him like a wild wave as he leaned into the embrace and snuggled into her," Okay mom!!," he would never argue with her counsel and soon he would find himself in bed and sleeping.

Anything could happen in the night, anyone could come for them. That was what Ali had thought, his son's words were wise, maybe it was from the struggle they had seen but their child had already carried such experience for someone so young. It made the storyteller both proud and worried for the future. To be so prepared, he worried about what would come for his child. "I believe we can do that as long as we're together, that's where we find our strength."

Ali tried to reassure his son, his wife. They had to make money, the didn't have time to worry. But Gero would have time to sleep, after their time together was over the young child was taken back to their wagon. Where he would be under pale red lanterns with heavy wool blankets. The desert got unbearably cold and night was setting in fast. With each step they took another light seemed to blaze brightly. His mother spoke to him softly as he was tucked into bed. "Your father will be back in a few hours, just rest, in the morning we can look at the town more."

That time would never come, however, as his father would return, but in less than two hours. All the shows ended, whispers had spread across the town and sounds of rushing legs and loading carts would rock young Gero. In flashes, he could see it. His father and mother talking, the cart rushing through the streets, whispers turning into roars. Roars became quiet as the city would turn into a speck. Then, in a moment it would burn, exploding into a star.


Hope was all the young boy had. It was the only thing he carried with him in the night as a strange woman gave him kindness. It wasn't the person he was searching for but it was an island in a hopeless sea of a journey. It was the start, it was just what he needed if there was any hope in finding his father's friend. He had nothing to go off, to know if this was even the right one of the two cities. Still, there was some hope, it was a candle, a small burning light that would be outshone in an instant as the youth was jostled awake.

There was silence, it was strange but the lively city was dead and that was because the shock had stolen his hearing. Mary was shaking him, in the distance on the horizon a hundred miniature suns seemed to fall down. There were hundreds on the city upon the hill, Sodom was already burning. Now the heavens were coming towards the border of Gomorah. It was David's men coming to cleanse the city, Khalik would only know because it would be the first sound he heard, as his new matron's voice came into check.

"Boy snap out of, David's Church is here, we have to go!" she would say yanking him up. There was no choice in the matter. They had to keep moving she held onto the boy for dear life. Red marks growing onto his arm, bruising quickly as she felt some obligation to keep him alive. Mary was unsure if anyone in this town was going to be, come the morning.


As the young boy would sleep into the night the party continued. For his people, there was nothing but prosperity into the night. Songs of battle, of fair maidens, and never-ending golden wine would ring throughout the night. Sweet gentle lullabies for a growing boy. It would be hours until the rest of the men would be asleep, even Gola stayed up even if he was rushed to his room early. The day would be there in no time, and all three boys would be expected to be there for their mother.

The sun would shine with no interference from the clouds, the birds singing the heralding calls. It was the invitation to a great day. So the great warrior woman carrying an axe and fishing pole would walk out to the water. Looking at her tired boys, Ymir was clearly hungover, groggily trying to keep his head up. Gola, agitated from all his stress was wide-eyed, staring but not attentive. Still, it was time for bonding.

"Come on boys, it's time to get moving. We can't waste all day on the shore. It's not like we need to go too far!" she encouraged waltzing into the water. It would get up to just about her knees till something would get her attention. It wasn't that of a fish, no but something had bumped into her leg. Looking down she would see it, visitors had come to their land. A ship, filled with invaders was shooting small arrows into her thigh.


"Well boys, looks like we have more to catch than fish. I don't suppose you wanna get in on this fun before I make the first catch of the day?" She would joke. This small surprise seemed to amp up the children, or at least so the eldest who had already had a penchant for battle. To a giant, this was nothing, but maybe it would attract an even bigger catch.


"I have a feeling there will not be much time for that my dear sister, I think we may be departing sooner than expected...." Furcas would say. He wouldn't lie, worry rested on his chiseled brow. Their doors were rather heavy, unless the workers allowed them to slam it would take a flurry of emotion for such a thing to happen. They would make their way out, to find their father but their company would find them sooner.

Gamigan, the great asura towered over their father, a copper man with long wispy golden hair. His jaw was strong but his features were more slender than that of Furcas. He seemed more timid, weathered by the things he had seen. Gamigan, looked furious, almost mad at the lord. "Don't act as you understand, you've just barely risen your position, it is better to keep your people protected than to risk your safety!"

The moment those words left his lips Gamigan turned around. The fire in his veins seemed to creep out, flaring out from the corners of his mouth. Anger was not something to invite within Asura, but he did his best to keep his composure, instead to attack with his words. "I do know it is a death wish to one's people to leave their fate to that of DAVID!" With those last words he stormed out further, not giving the metal man a chance to catch up.

The young knight was unsure how to face their leader, their parent in a moment like this. The disappointment and the confusion on his face were hard to hide. Like a downpour, it moved across his face before forming into a melancholic smile. "I'll need to speak to Father for a bit, go and pack your bags, dear sister. I think we'll be going to see Marax sooner than expected."

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The night went by without much distraction though Rou did lay in bed contemplating a lot. He was young so his ambition was high, high enough to set his sights on becoming the next greatest like his elder brother. Ymir was everything the young boy aspired to be besides handsome. Moreover, he had the ability to fight and become stronger than the younger male had been. Memories began to blur until as he slowly fell asleep it was as if he had never lived another life. He would devote his time and energy on this one. As the sun slowly began to peak over the horizon Rou would be up looking out of his window in amazement as he smiled wondering what he would be doing with his mother today. Fond memories of his time with her began to flood his mind as he smiled softly until he had heard her voice outside.

Looking down he would see the giant of a woman which something within his mind tore at him that something was mistaken or missing but he shooed it away nonetheless. Quickly he would run downstairs and out the door to meet with his siblings and mother to which he would look at Ymir and chuckle,” Tou should have went to sleep instead of entertaining your fleeting desires big brother,” though he merely knew of that act perhaps he was still too young to do them. Watching his mother he would wait until she was in the water fully, but after seeing the ships he would smile and take off. Into the water he dove as he swam under one of the boats in order to gain access to it from its starboard side while they were focusing on his mother. With a rather large fishing knife In his left hand he would begin to use his right to start to climb the boat and from there begin combat. Today was a a good day indeed.