|
Post by Strome on Jun 17, 2014 21:07:44 GMT 8
It's dawn at dusk in Steamengine. The huge neon lights announcing such establishments as bars, casinos, pleasure houses, and luxury resorts are glaring at their brightest. The alleys are filled with the most shady characters-- good, bad, who cares? In Steamengine, you have the freedom to lose yourself. That is, if you want to.
Strome Aenore, the Wiken envoy to the Capital, had just been sent to Steamengine to retrieve a packet for the government. Now that his job is done, he thought of walking for a while, simply to learn and appreciate things. It was no desire for vice-- what he wanted was to see the rest of the Capital, to witness the marvelous sights of Steamengine, to understand the smog condition, and to write of all these things and send his discoveries home to his father.
Strome strode along one of the main roads. It led to most of the large luxury resorts, but was also riddled with small storefronts. Behind the buildings were high columns of smoke. The factories. Ah well.
|
|
|
Post by luthien on Jun 17, 2014 21:58:58 GMT 8
(( IT FEELS SO NICE TO RP AGAIN AAAAAA
A young boy with shoulder-length, ash-blonde hair darted quickly through the streets of the Steamengine, cold sweat running down his forehead. He clutched tightly onto a brown leather bag with both hands; its strap that hung around his neck looked like it was choking him. His rust-colored eyes glistened in incredible fright as he ran down the both bright and dim alleys, the scent of sweat and body heat making him want to hurl.
He looked behind him, attempting to see if his oppressor was still on his tail. Thankfully, the only thing he could see were the glaring lights from the building that threatened to blind him. He hated this place. He wanted to disappear. He would've liked it better if he wasn't born in this stinking hellhole of a "city", with its obnoxious red light districts and oil puddles.
"Ow!" the child cried, bumping into a tall man with blue hair- a sight he's never really seen before, not that he actually left the factories, that is. He collapsed onto the floor, panting heavily. He closed his eyes for a slight moment, before jolting back up and scrambling for his bag.
"O.. O-Out of my way!" he breathed, his eyes shining in indescribable fear. He was too tired to stand up, but remained vigilant and attempted to give a confident front. It didn't seem to be working.
|
|
|
Post by Strome on Jun 17, 2014 22:37:52 GMT 8
"Um, 'scuse me?" the blue-haired youth inquired. He considered for a moment that the child had stolen from him--thieves were rampant in Steamengine, and vice is usually ingrained into the person during their most impressionable years. He decided to shake the child. "Have you taken anything from me?" He asked in what he hoped to be a threatening manner (though he understood he must have failed, he couldn't be threatening-- only serious).
|
|
|
Post by luthien on Jun 17, 2014 22:44:20 GMT 8
The boy edged away from the man, still clutching the bag that was laid against his chest. His dusty beret partly covered his eyes.
"N-No, sir! I swear I d'int!" he cried in a half-yell, his legs trembling so much to the point where it didn't seem possible for him to be able to stand up anymore. He whimpered, as if bracing himself for punishment. It felt all too normal for him. He didn't like his normal.
|
|
|
Post by Strome on Jun 17, 2014 22:57:11 GMT 8
"Hmm. Alright." Strome said, relaxing his features. "Would you care to explain to me, though, why you appear quite fidgety?" The child seemed to be nervous. Was he under the influence of drugs? Perhaps one of those young kids captured by those organizations dealing with god-knows-what. He understood that such children ought to be turned to Social Welfare. This boy looked like he needed help, but Strome was unsure whether or not he ought to bother now. Should he?
|
|
|
Post by luthien on Jun 17, 2014 23:05:52 GMT 8
The young boy shook his head briskly, the small pigtail at the back of his head following his gesture. "I-It ain't none of y-your business!" he tried to say bravely, though it didn't exactly work. He didn't want to be told on. That would result to the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. He quickly tried to find an excuse.
"They killed ma, a'ight? It isn't my fault! I never wanted this!" he instead ended up saying, covering his face with his beret. All the lies he wanted to say ended up hidden in the back of his head. Oh, how absolutely stupid he felt. He was doomed for sure, now. The last resort, he thought, was to run when the time came. He hoped he had the stamina by then.
|
|
|
Post by Strome on Jun 17, 2014 23:11:38 GMT 8
"Such horrid...!" the envoy exclaimed. How would the government tolerate this? Do events similar to this happen every night at Steamengine? He shook his head, and considering the severity of the matter, wore a sombre look on his face.
"Where did this happen, kid?" he asked. He would be ready to check the scene, or at least call for someone in the higher offices. They wouldn't deny him, the Southerners. They needed to make themselves look pretty on the outside, or else the other lands would call foul. "Can you bring me to the place? Or at least tell me where it is, so that I may immediately alert the authorities?" Strome understood that the people of Steamengine may turn a blind eye towards incidents like these, but this was the least he could do.
|
|
|
Post by luthien on Jun 17, 2014 23:25:24 GMT 8
The child looked at the man, a bewildered expression on his face. He didn't know whether to trust him, taking that this was the Steamengine, after all. In the end, he decided to tell. He planned to run away after all of this, anyway.
"They started usin' children to work in the factories," he finally admitted, "I was with ma' when these big men started takin' children from our neighborhood away. Ma' didn't want to let me go, and the big men started beating her in front of me. They killed ma'! They killed her!" His frail body started trembling, as if the recall of events was too much to bear for him.
"They brought me to a weird place and forced me to work, and beat me when I didn't wanna. I don't want to go back!"
He rummaged in his bag to present a small pair of scissors. "And if they found out that I was a girl, I would be taken to the govern'r for sure."
"None of the girls who went to the govern'r ever came back."
The young boy, apparently a girl, thought she said too much, and edged away from the man, still on the floor.
"I-If you tell-- yer' going to regret it!" she tried to threaten him, but in vain.
|
|
|
Post by Strome on Jun 17, 2014 23:35:25 GMT 8
"Hmm... Most enlightening. I shall note that." Strome commented. He pulled out a phone from his pocket (still not that used to it), and opened his MapTracker, zooming in around Steamengine. He could send a report to the Central office if he had the place properly pointed out. "Okay, listen kid." He stooped a little lower to be of more "equal" height to the child. "This is the map of the place. Do you think you can draw a circle around the factories you were talking about? I can send this picture to the officers and they'll handle the matter efficiently." He tried to smile encouragingly. "And they could also get the other children out from the place. They would be able to find you a better home in the Capital, and they might send you to a foster family." He was unsure about the last statement, but he believed that anything would be better than a wretched place like this.
|
|
|
Post by luthien on Jun 17, 2014 23:48:19 GMT 8
The child furrowed her brows, peering at the gadget in his hands and receiving it. She didn't know if what she was doing was right. The fact that she just met this man made her doubt his words greatly. There was no such man in the Steamengine who would actually help a child. Was this a foreigner?
She tried to make of the small images in the device, and marked the building by a large, crumbling statue in the shape of an angel-- the building seemingly abandoned. Small towns were littered along the path towards the building, each town seemed void of any signs of life. It seemed like more of a ghost town than anything. The young girl knew the elders were still there, and a worried expression dusted across her face. What was going to happen to the mayor? As far as she knew, he was probably the only man who actually treated people right.
She hesitantly handed back the the phone, fixing her beret. She didn't believe his most of his words, which most she wished were true. She honestly didn't think about where she was going to go after she escaped. But, she thought, if he was going to do something about the factory, then by all means, she was willing to take the chance. She studied the blue-haired man, and was almost certain he was a foreigner. She wondered what a foreigner like him was doing in the Steamengine.
"Who are you?" she finally managed to say, her voice croaky.
|
|
|
Post by Strome on Jun 18, 2014 10:32:26 GMT 8
"I am Strome Aenore, a Wiken ambassador of sorts to the whole Southern Nirvana. I understand it must be.... somehow peculiar that I'm here instead of in my office. I was sent here for official business, the government wanting to make a fool of me, perchance." Strome frowned at the thought of that, taking back his phone from the child and sending the image with an attached report to the Steamengine Police and Investigations and the Capital's own Civilian Safety Department. "There. I sent the report already and this would probably be addressed in a while... You'd better join them when the situation has been cleared. And while they're not here yet, you could stay with me, or would you prefer to stay in the closest police station..." He checked his phone again. "Around 20 minutes from here on foot. And by the way, have you eaten?"
|
|
somebodyyoumightknow
Guest
|
Post by somebodyyoumightknow on Jun 18, 2014 17:32:49 GMT 8
The child furrowed her brows, peering at the gadget in his hands and receiving it. She didn't know if what she was doing was right. The fact that she just met this man made her doubt his words greatly. There was no such man in the Steamengine who would actually help a child. Was this a foreigner?
She tried to make of the small images in the device, and marked the building by a large, crumbling statue in the shape of an angel-- the building seemingly abandoned. Small towns were littered along the path towards the building, each town seemed void of any signs of life. It seemed like more of a ghost town than anything. The young girl knew the elders were still there, and a worried expression dusted across her face. What was going to happen to the mayor? As far as she knew, he was probably the only man who actually treated people right.
She hesitantly handed back the the phone, fixing her beret. She didn't believe his most of his words, which most she wished were true. She honestly didn't think about where she was going to go after she escaped. But, she thought, if he was going to do something about the factory, then by all means, she was willing to take the chance. She studied the blue-haired man, and was almost certain he was a foreigner. She wondered what a foreigner like him was doing in the Steamengine.
"Who are you?" she finally managed to say, her voice croaky. DUDE, WHO ARE YOU?? I don't think I know you??? ahhhhh -admin
|
|
|
Post by luthien on Jun 18, 2014 23:58:26 GMT 8
"I don't have anythin' to do with anything 'nymore," she said in a soft tone, her bangs falling over her eyes as she bowed her head. "It's bett'r I just find a bloody place to die peacefully; and poss'bly avoid a do down. I'm a hundred percent sure folks just see me as a griddling mumper."
The young girl stuffed her hands in her coat pockets, and her face relaxed in an expression somewhat similar to relief. "Thanks, though. I-I mean, if y'r seriously willing to help the others, then I'm more grateful than anythin'." She felt her stomach ache badly, but paid no mind to it.
"No. I'm not hungry. Thanks for asking."
She attempted to lift her tired self up as much as she could, but to no avail. She swore under her breath, whispering on something about her arm and the "stupid flue flakers who bloody slummed the whole district" who should apparently be bludgeoned and offered as lamb sacrifices. Man, this girl was violent with words. Very inappropriate.
|
|
|
Post by Strome on Jun 19, 2014 0:10:46 GMT 8
Strome looked peculiarly at the child. It seemed to him that she said the exact opposites of what she'd probably want. "Now, no worries, child. It shall all be taken cared of." He decided to ignore the kid's statement dying peacefully and her odd choice of words-- perhaps it's simply the PTSD or the post-traumatic stress disorder, was it? He felt rather hungry himself and decided that he ought to bring the kid somewhere to at least rest and eat a bit. Conditions in factories weren't that pretty, and perhaps a less hungry child would also be a happier child. Or at least a less morbid one.
"I insist that we go eat something." He said. "It would do you good and I don't really mind how much it costs so you should just tell me anything you'd like to eat and if we can get there, we'll eat there." He tried to smile in a reassuring manner, and attempted to reach out for her hand, in what he thought a responsible adult should have done.
|
|