There once was a young man named Hurbin, and he was an unfortunate soul. His life was a tragedy, his home an orphanage, his family a mangy cat, and his body a lamed, dirty mess. He had been born by an unknown mother and father with a birth defect rendering his left leg nearly useless. After being found in rags on the doorstep of the orphanage and taken in, the overseer gave him a short walking stick as a seemingly adequate replacement. Growing up, he would limp around the orphanage's cemetery called "playground" every day only to receive a pelting of small stones from his peers as a reward for his efforts.
He had never experienced the mythical "shower" that had so often been dreamed of, nor had anything passed his lips but dead wine and musty, molded bread. His clothes consisted of a ripped denim jacket over a browned long-sleeved shirt - tattered from the affections of his orphan-mates - and a pair of mud-coated Dickies. He went barefoot over gravel and snow, and his curly black hair was always full of fallen leaves and dust. In the evenings, he would listen intently to the overseer mumble to herself or her adult visitors about the goings on in the world, and thus he learned of it.
Poor Hurbin grew up so, but never in his mind did he think he was unfortunate. In fact, he was almost always smiling, whether a little or a lot.
Now on the opposite end of the spectrum lived a young lady named Erydis. Her life was a romance, her home a palace, her family the entire town, and her body a perfection. She was born as cute as a button, and was praised, doted on and sought out by everyone who had barely even heard of her. Her long, wavy golden hair flowed gorgeously down her back, green eyes flashing like emeralds in the smooth gentleness of her expression. Her speech was dainty, her movements refined, and she never wore the same gowns, dresses or shoes twice.
She was virtually a princess, and as she got older and attended the highest of educations, her classmates came not only to look up to her as their goddess, but all the boys proposed at least twice a month. She, however, was too proper to accept any of them.
And thus was Erydis's life from babe to young adult, and never was she wanting of anything, for she had it all. But for all that, her heart was not quite whole, and always she felt something within her was askew or needing correction.
Now Hurbin's nineteenth birthday passed without festivity, but he gave thanks nonetheless. He was too old now for the orphanage, so the overseer took back her walking stick and booted him out her doors. He traveled slowly for a while, through the edges of the small grey town, and then out into the farmlands and wilderness. He clumsily climbed fences in some areas and dropped heavily over fallen trees in others. During his trudge through a patch of woods, he finally came upon a branch that had fallen and was leaning against the huge trunk of its origin.
The little branch had obviously fallen from near the top of the great tree, and was not dead but alive and strong. He took up the branch, the curve of its base conforming perfectly to his palm, and started on his journey again, giving a nod of gratitude to the tree as he passed it. And so on and on his blunderings led him, and it was long before he came to any form of civility. He ate berries, roots and the occasional carcass that happened to be laid before him, until finally he stumbled upon something he had never seen before.
Erydis had grown to be a beautiful young lady, more elegant and eloquent than ever. Her suitors were real and ever-present now, but the more she was admired and pampered by her family and so called "friends", the more her heart told her something was amiss. Her twentieth year was stunted by a lavish party lasting three days and three nights, her mansion flooding swiftly with large presents and suited men. Even so, she felt less and less at ease, until on the third evening she couldn't stand it any longer.
