Witt Will Not Save You (Adventure and Romance)

Part 1

People are boring at the best of times, they can be read like books and have similar characteristics to that of a potato. At least this is what Maive has come to understand about people. Coming from nothing gives one a certain distain for everything around them, Maive is no exception. She hates the gravel path she walks everyday to the little miserable village she goes to just to steal small bits of sour bread and bottles of watery milk so she can feed herself and do it all over again. She hates routine and orders and rules and even just the way people look at her when simply passing by. Which is why she took every opportunity she could to stir up mischief and trouble, I suppose this isolated her a lot which Maive was certainly aware of but didn't much care. It was so fun to see the strange ways people would exert their anger. But in the end they are just people. Miserable, aggravating people blissfully unaware that their lives were meaningless and forgotten. Maive could not in fact remember a time were anyone living outside the boarders of Costovia where not miserable forgotten. Perhaps the most forgotten place in the whole world and she had the unfortunate pleasure of living there.  

There was only one other time she every felt not completely miserable and void of any sense of hope or adventure, and that was every 100 days the people from Costovia all the way across the wild thundering seas would come to the miserable village and collect... Actually Maive had no idea what they collected. All she knew was that they came in harshly dark colored clothes carrying all differently sized crates, some would carry small unidentifiable objects either in their hands or strapped to their waists. Few would carry nothing more than a small blade and an overwhelming sense of superiority.

The people from the village called them the collectors but they were really Costivian officials, an identifying feature they all seemed to share was that their hair was always short and tamed. The men had buzzed hair with an occasional well trimmed beard and the women with short choppy hair that was always kept out of their face. Unlike Maive who seemed to never mind how wild and untamed her hair was, thick dark layers of wavy hair that she would sometimes try her best to trim herself with nothing more than the blunt end of her dagger. And as for her clothes well they were standard of the village, a dirty, frumpy cotton shirt with high waisted trousers that were kept up by straps here and there most of which she had stolen to keep herself clothed. With the addition of fur from different sorts of exotic beasts that lurked in the surrounding woods, she kept them hidden in in secret spots around the village only sporting them like coats in the harsh winters. All though the village in her mind was miserable she could at least respect that it kept her clothed.

The reason why she loved this annual visit was that it was the only time she truly felt exited about anything. The collectors were definitely not friendly people and never really talked with the villagers with respect of any kind. Perhaps she should fell scared or threatened but she never did. She could think of so many witty things to say about how they walked and acted she sometimes thought how she might actually say something to someone would they think it was funny or would they look shocked and horrified that she would even dare to speak ill of the collectors. But she always kept it bottled inside, playing imaginary conversations with herself. Maybe that meant she was crazy or that deep down if she talked to the other villagers she was admitting something that scared her terribly which was that she was just another sad, miserable, meaningless person too.