Spiderswalk AU
Dec. 22nd, 2012 11:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lina_inverse posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
womanboxIt was cold out. Cold and damp like it always was this time of year as dusk settled around them. A small girl set huddled underneath a broken streetlamp, wrapping her tattered mud-soaked cloak around her tightly to protect her from the chill as best as she could. One dirty hand jutted outward from beneath, the only thing visible aside from her broken shoes and pale, gaunt face. Dirt was smeared across her chin and cheeks, eyes sunken and vaguely haunted. The only bright thing about her were the defiant whisps of red hair stuck to the sides of her face and peeking out of the tears in the hood of her cloak like fine copper. Amongst the other urchin beggars on the streets around the central square it was her only real selling point, her only asset. It was the only reason anyone stopped for her at all.
Not that all of the attention was necessarily good.
Sometimes the strangers offered her some meager coins, spare pieces of valuables, or food. Sometimes all they offered were kind smiles, and that was suitable payment given that many of the average workers off the square were one bad day away from her spot on the corner. But some of them -- usually those with the most to spare -- would stop to sneer. To raise their lip and turn to make a comment to their wives or children about what sort of filth was invading their streets, how something ought to be done about it. Occasionally they even picked fights with her, shoving her and telling her they were going to fetch the police if she didn't scurry back to the hole she crawled out of. Sometimes they flung mud at her, laughing openly at someone so far beneath even the lowliest of their own servants.
It was those people that Lina took note of. It was those people that made her vision sharpen, eyes temporarily coming to life as she took careful note of their features and demeanor, etching them into her mind's eye. Every abuse she took she could endure, because she knew what they didn't. It was all a ruse, and the final joke would be on them.
That cold evening in particular found a gentleman on horseback trotting by on his way up the street-- the high streets where the most well-to-do resided, as if the horse hadn't been indication enough. It was obviously well-groomed, the finely etched leather tack alone being worth more than what most residents made in a year. She didn't dare raise her eyes; no one in her position would have dared such a challenge. But it didn't matter; that hair of hers had caught his attention, and apparently the gentleman was in want of a little sport.
He reared his horse back, bringing him back to settle squarely in a pile of mud before nudging him into a full gallop, laughing as the mud and horse feces mixed in the gutter splashed across her cloak. Lina jumped back, jaw grinding as she looked up in time to see him turn and grin beneath a full black mustache and top hat, actually tipping it slightly at her in a mocking farewell.
This was it. This asshole was her target for the evening.
She slipped from her corner towards the alleyways that ran parallel to the high roads. Or, well, parallel enough if you were familiar with the back ways; cutting across entrance ways, jaggedly pieced together between buildings crushed together through years of expanding despite the apparent defiance of spacial laws it required. She followed, ducking between clothing lines and dropping her tattered cloak, grabbing at one darker and heavier as she moved silently with her assailant.
He stopped at last at an impossibly large house, carelessly leaving his precious horse in front of the stable with the engrained confidence of a man who'd spent his life having someone else clean up after him. Why worry about his horse? A servant would be along shortly to care for her. He gave her a pat on the nose before stumbling inside.
No servant would be coming today.
With her cloak wrapped tightly around her, Lina moved effortlessly across the ground, small and quick and unseen in the dark as she expertly avoided the spots illuminated by the bright lanterns adorning the estate. Untying the harness from the fence post it had been so lazily tied against, she swung up on the large horse and trotted it across the grass to avoid the sound of heavy hooves against the cobblestones.
The horse gave no protest; it was either grateful for it's liberation or had no particular allegiance to it's idiot of an owner. Once she was further from the estate, she threw the hood back on her cloak and laughed. The sunken look on her face vanished, replaced by one of victory and confidence. This horse would fetch a pretty penny; she'd eat well tonight and for several more nights. She wouldn't have to crouch on the street to pick out a target again for quite some time.
Stupid, stupid rich people.
Not that all of the attention was necessarily good.
Sometimes the strangers offered her some meager coins, spare pieces of valuables, or food. Sometimes all they offered were kind smiles, and that was suitable payment given that many of the average workers off the square were one bad day away from her spot on the corner. But some of them -- usually those with the most to spare -- would stop to sneer. To raise their lip and turn to make a comment to their wives or children about what sort of filth was invading their streets, how something ought to be done about it. Occasionally they even picked fights with her, shoving her and telling her they were going to fetch the police if she didn't scurry back to the hole she crawled out of. Sometimes they flung mud at her, laughing openly at someone so far beneath even the lowliest of their own servants.
It was those people that Lina took note of. It was those people that made her vision sharpen, eyes temporarily coming to life as she took careful note of their features and demeanor, etching them into her mind's eye. Every abuse she took she could endure, because she knew what they didn't. It was all a ruse, and the final joke would be on them.
That cold evening in particular found a gentleman on horseback trotting by on his way up the street-- the high streets where the most well-to-do resided, as if the horse hadn't been indication enough. It was obviously well-groomed, the finely etched leather tack alone being worth more than what most residents made in a year. She didn't dare raise her eyes; no one in her position would have dared such a challenge. But it didn't matter; that hair of hers had caught his attention, and apparently the gentleman was in want of a little sport.
He reared his horse back, bringing him back to settle squarely in a pile of mud before nudging him into a full gallop, laughing as the mud and horse feces mixed in the gutter splashed across her cloak. Lina jumped back, jaw grinding as she looked up in time to see him turn and grin beneath a full black mustache and top hat, actually tipping it slightly at her in a mocking farewell.
This was it. This asshole was her target for the evening.
She slipped from her corner towards the alleyways that ran parallel to the high roads. Or, well, parallel enough if you were familiar with the back ways; cutting across entrance ways, jaggedly pieced together between buildings crushed together through years of expanding despite the apparent defiance of spacial laws it required. She followed, ducking between clothing lines and dropping her tattered cloak, grabbing at one darker and heavier as she moved silently with her assailant.
He stopped at last at an impossibly large house, carelessly leaving his precious horse in front of the stable with the engrained confidence of a man who'd spent his life having someone else clean up after him. Why worry about his horse? A servant would be along shortly to care for her. He gave her a pat on the nose before stumbling inside.
No servant would be coming today.
With her cloak wrapped tightly around her, Lina moved effortlessly across the ground, small and quick and unseen in the dark as she expertly avoided the spots illuminated by the bright lanterns adorning the estate. Untying the harness from the fence post it had been so lazily tied against, she swung up on the large horse and trotted it across the grass to avoid the sound of heavy hooves against the cobblestones.
The horse gave no protest; it was either grateful for it's liberation or had no particular allegiance to it's idiot of an owner. Once she was further from the estate, she threw the hood back on her cloak and laughed. The sunken look on her face vanished, replaced by one of victory and confidence. This horse would fetch a pretty penny; she'd eat well tonight and for several more nights. She wouldn't have to crouch on the street to pick out a target again for quite some time.
Stupid, stupid rich people.
no subject
Date: 2012-12-23 07:53 am (UTC)And Ed had real problems with people who fell into any of those categories.
He was reminded of that when he saw some asshole ride his horse right into the gutter of the street, kicking up mud and horseshit and spattering it all over some beggar girl. The bastard had the audacity to laugh about it as he rode off, with his money-filled pockets, his top hat, his horse that screamed of status in and of itself. Ed narrowed his eyes as he watched him go, briefly taking note of the speed at which the beggar girl vanished. She probably ducked into an alley to dispose of her tattered and now filthy cloak.
If there was anything that Ed could say he believed in, it was the idea of what goes around comes around: you pull shit like that on people, one day it'll come back and bite you in the ass. So he wanted to think that rich piece of crap would get his someday, whatever form it came in. Like getting robbed. Yeah. The way Ed saw it, the guy deserved to get robbed.
It was an unfortunately common sight, though: the poor getting treated miserably by the rich. One would think that people in a city like New York would've grown past that kind of behavior. Obviously thinking that was putting far too much faith in people. Ed once wanted to believe that it was worth it to give out second chances, but since coming to this city he'd learned there was no such thing. Principles were an idiotic thing to cling to. He didn't know why he clung so tightly to the few he had left. What he did know was that he would never go back to begging on the street; people were shitty, and he was better off not relying on them.
Ed had some luck, though; his borrowed clothes were nice enough that it earned him invisibility from the snootier wealthy folks of the city. In fact, it was probably what kept him from getting mowed down by that man on the horse. If he managed to keep the outfit relatively clean, that earned him a few hassle-free days. That would be tricky, though; he needed to find something to keep himself warm for the rest of the night, and there was a good chance he'd eventually have to dumpster dive for it.
It was later, as he was hurriedly walking down the sidewalk with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and an old scarf around his neck that he heard it: the distinctive clattering of hooves against pavement. His mind immediately drew up the image of the asshole from earlier, and he quickly moved away from the curb of the sidewalk. He glanced up, already frowning as he expected to see that same snooty look on the guy's face...
And was surprised not to see him. Instead he saw a girl with a dark cloak and long red hair on a horse... And if Ed wasn't mistaken, that had to be the very same horse from earlier. There weren't many people who owned horses in this part of the city. Those who did were rich, and the horses were clearly well-cared for, bound to bring in a pretty penny if presented to the right people. And this horse - this horse - was definitely the one he'd seen earlier. The man had been robbed!
The revelation struck Ed as the greatest thing he'd seen in a long time, and it actually made him laugh aloud. He even kind of hoped the girl riding the horse right now was the same beggar girl that had been splashed. That would just complete the circle, and Ed was hard-pressed to think of a better deserved fate than this.