by Ranger of the North » Sun Feb 05, 2017 11:57 am
xxxxxRain thundered down in relentless torrents, smashing into buildings and dully-gleaming footpaths with furious force. It pooled and swirled down gutters, laughing like a maniac as it gurgled down to the sea, chuckling malevolently.
xxxxxHeavy drops of water dripped incessantly from eaves and roofs like a steady stream of tears as, below in the night, a solitary figure waded through ankle-deep puddles, casting the occasional furtive glance over his or her shoulder. A medieval-type cloak was slung over the figure’s shoulders, forming a hood to conceal facial-features.
xxxxxA single hand clutched tightly at the cloth, knuckles whitening in an over-exaggerated attempt to keep it from slipping. In the other hand, its tip just barely protruding from the cloak, was a long, curved piece of steel that shone in the street-lamps’ light with an ominous red gleam.
xxxxxBlood.
xxxxxBehind in the road lay a still, sprawled figure; saturated clothes entwining the limp form in one last, lifeless embrace. Water poured down the road, strangely crimson as it licked at the apparition’s booted feet.
xxxxxThe murderer grunted slightly as he splashed on, feeling a strange warmth to the liquid but uncaring. He would be well rewarded for the assassination. Tired leg muscles contracted and flexed outward again, kicking at a particularly large puddle—although out of consternation or glee he knew not—and the water leapt, hurriedly darting away from his foot, and splattered across a small bundle lying at the nearby doorstep, soaking it.
xxxxxA small, shuddering cry tore from a hoarse throat, and the bundle moved slightly as the life within shivered and protested.
xxxxxThe murderer stopped in his tracks, dark thoughts clouding his mind like poison.
xxxxxWas it a ghoul?
xxxxxNo, it couldn’t be.
xxxxxHe gave himself a small shake to dispel superstitious fantasies then took a step forward, intending to bypass the sopping bundle—but the pouring rain streamed down harder in protest, thudding down on the brim of his hood and momentarily obscuring his vision. It was a threat.
xxxxxThe assassin fumbled at his cloak and clumsily slid his knife through the cloth to keep it in place, barely noticing as dark liquid dribbled down his hand. An insistent reminder of what he had done—who he’d become.
xxxxxAwkwardly the man crouched, leaning one knee on the soaked concrete and barely noticing the rising water racing greedily up his bedraggled cloak as he reached out a cautious hand to prod the bundle. Rough brown cloth caught at his skin, almost begging to be removed, and the man’s resolution fled like mist on a river at dawn as he saw the small face of a newborn babe.
xxxxxHe rose to his feet hurriedly, alarm infecting him like a deadly potion, and took a hasty step back. Abruptly his heel slipped from footpath to gutter, and he stumbled as the water gurgled hungrily at his leg.
xxxxxFlailing like an ungainly stork, the cloaked figure regained his footing and stood motionless in the dark, weeping rain, glaring down at the light reflecting from the water; he watched as the merciless lake began inching toward the step, and—eventually—the helpless infant.
xxxxxA scowl passed like a shadow across the murderer’s face at the delay—local authorities would be after him like hounds. And, resolved, he turned and took a step into the gloom.
xxxxxLet the child fend for itself, a cold voice hissed like a demon in his mind—but the baby squirmed again, and the assassin’s gut twisted in pity as a heart-wrenching cry emanated from its being; a helpless wail pleading for someone—anyone—to help, to spare it from the bitter-wet cold. A cry of misery. A cry for help.
xxxxxEach to his own. The stubborn thought flashed through his mind with the speed of a hummingbird’s wing, and, uncertain once again, the hooded man glanced upward; wondering in whose charge the babe had been placed—and he froze.
xxxxxA brothel.
xxxxxCurses sprang from his lips like poison, fouling the air and penetrating through the noise of falling water.
xxxxxThe assassin hesitated no longer. Moving with lion-like speed he darted forward and scooped the infant up into his arms. A murderer he might be, but this—this was unacceptable.
xxxxxThe baby’s crying instantly settled; she felt the strength of his arms and quieted almost immediately, secure in his grasp.
xxxxxThe man gazed down, wonder filling his eyes as his lips moved in silent stupefaction. He watched as the small form stirred slightly in response to the warmth of his body through the chill of her soaked blanket, and small, dark-blue eyes opened a slit, closing in a long, long blink as rain sprinkled her small face.
xxxxxThe fingers that curled around his proffered thumb were tiny—unbelievably so, and the man felt a strange warmth blossom in his chest; an unusual tenderness for the little one in his arms. It spread like flower-petals in the sun as her small, pink tongue slipped between toothless gums and she yawned contentedly.
xxxxxSlowly, a small smile crept over the assassin’s harsh face, diminishing his rugged, threadbare appearance tenfold.
xxxxxRain sheeted down with a little less violence. Seemingly appeased, it sprinkling buildings and dully-gleaming footpaths with gentle fingers, then pooled and swirled down gutters, chuckling mischievously.
xxxxxHeavy drops of water dripped incessantly from eaves and roofs, splashing to its own music as, below, a dark figure and his tightly-clasped bundle vanished into the darkness.
Your descriptions are fantastic, and this idea is really cool. Leaves the reader wanting more, and wondering... how does a girl raised by an assassin even turn out??? XD
<3
