Renegade | Fiddlesticks

Renegade

Incessant rain pounded the fragile windows, begging for entry. Howling from thunderous claps in the sky accompanied the fierce storm, still yet shy to make a proper entrance. The wispy darkness that swallowed the stars reduced the effectiveness of the candles; they dimly shone in the house, swaying timidly after the explosion of each raindrop. Occasionally, the breeze would start to whistle, allowing a stray branch from the cherry tree to knock hesitantly on the rear window, as if someone was tapping on a nonexistent backdoor. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on the scent of oaken bark from the logs, which held a twinge of dampness from being retrieved near a locust pond outside your kingdom -- Demacia.

You sucked in a breath.

Sleep was very insistent on evading you. Under your tired eyes laid visual evidence of a dark outline that stretched like a crescent moon -- dark before gradually fading into the color of your skin. Even if a slumber tempted you, you remained firm in your belief of avoiding it. The nightmares that plagued your mind never ceased, and the best way to stop it was to not sleep. Recalling your nightmares proved to be a difficult task, as all you could remember were dark amalgamations of colors and sceneries clashing that left you breathless in a cold sweat. It was a blessing to forget them for your sanity; after all, those nightmares could have contained highly disturbing content.

A breath parted from your lips, feeling a portion of your layered emotions of stress and weariness escape. If only it were that simple to unwind.

Flashes of beige whirred past your squinting eyes. Instinctively, you let out a mild groan as you involuntarily whiffed the sharp perfume, reclining back into the cushion of the old, musty green chair. Creaking at your slight movement, it managed to catch the attention of the woman rather than your noise of displeasure. You noted the creased brows that furrowed at you, her beige tunic crinkled at her sudden halt.

She called your name in a firm tone, reeling you from your dismay. "I asked you to start the fire some time ago! It's freezing -- do you want to eat dinner in a cold room?" she eyed you intensely, forcing you to wince.

"Well, it kind of slipped my mind...?" your voice trailed off, and all you heard was an angry huff before she started to lay her hands on the logs.

Marcie. That's what you called her. Marceline felt too long for you, especially since no one referred to her by her formal name. She is a woman who is five years older than you, and she treated you like a sibling ever since your mother let you play with her next-door. However, you were in Marcie's house, not yours. You sold your own house to a member of the king's court because of desperate financial needs. You held no title nor job to sustain yourself, so the generous sum that you gained was to fulfill your basic accommodations -- and to help Marcie.

"You didn't sleep last night. No wonder your mind is so amiss." Marcie's voice intruded your wandering thoughts and you shook your head.

A shrill caw from a crow boomed overhead, silencing the raging storm for a mere second. The fact that a lone bird is strong enough to withstand the bullets of raindrops on its wings made you arch a brow, but you quickly dismissed it. "I keep seeing him, Marcie. I don't know what to do." A frown occupied her face. "Whenever I stare outside on a calm night, I swear I see him -- those red eyes that stare from the abyss. And if I don't see him, I hear his limp arm dragging itself across the ground. I can't close my eyes knowing that he's out there."

For the first time, there was a pregnant silence. The noises from the outside world have numbed into white noise that fumbled in your ears, and Marcie's calloused fingers were suspended a mere inch from the furled bark. Guilt coiled around your heart, snaking its way into your throat. The nightmares, the visions -- they were all about him. Sometimes a low melody would start playing, and you frantically searched to end the music but it haunted you wherever you went. If someone from the Church or king's court were to realize who you were speaking of, they'd exile you immediately -- for that and multitude of other reasons.