|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sat Aug 14, 2010 12:50 pm
It had been a good time to leave his little safe haven, Epoch had been sure of it. The townsfolk had begun to notice, despite him being there for a few years, that the strange child had not aged so much as a day since his Gran had found him. If he had stayed any longer, Epoch would have caused trouble for his gandmother, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. Causing Hale's 'death' had left Epoch with a lingering sense of guilt and a strong need for independence. He couldn't rely on anyone else anymore, but what was he supposed to do? He wasn't Human; he was a Dust, but what exactly was that?
Epoch was keenly aware of what he was, but not quite sure what he was meant for. Today, he stood on a street corner, selling papers to the locals as his part-time job. He had stayed with Hale's old co-worker for no more than a month before he politely thanked the man and moved on, managing to land himself this job as a cute newspaper boy. The people of Aimes didn't seem to mind his unusual looks like his old town had, they even seemed somewhat accustomed to unusual looking people by now.
He remembered vaguely that there had been others like him, and that this was the place he had been born, but Epoch hadn't seen a single other like himself, or even caught a hint of someone with the same kind of feeling as himself. He was starting to wonder if he had been right to come here at all.
It was night finally, and Epoch made his way home, shifting between alleys, and taking short cuts over the buildings. He had moved into none other than a treehouse deep in the woods that he had constructed from materials gathered around town. No one really minded it seemed, and this way he didn't have to burden anyone else with living expenses. He had just reached the edge of the forest when he took a rest, sitting down on a low stone wall to pull out some bread, meat, and a bottle of milk to have a quick dinner before traipsing through the woodlands to get home. It was a nice night with a full moon and a starry sky, clear, and slightly cool with a gentle breeze.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Sep 08, 2010 7:54 pm
From when the sun came up and when it took its rest, the mature dust watched Epoch from afar with concerned eyes. For the dusts, this wasn't a very usual situation. Since Epoch's guardian vanished, Aren watched the young child from afar and tried to talk to him when he had the chance. But the opportunities to talk had never come up since the dustling lived with another human and was surrounded by plenty of humans every single day. He had no chance to approach the boy until this night.
He knew that the boy was struggling and this affected him as it was his duty to ensure that the children were properly cared for. And it was because he genuinely cared for them all.
Aren's dull blue eyes showed much concern, something that was visible even in the dark of the night. The dust moved swiftly and quietly as he followed the boy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Sep 10, 2010 6:10 am
It was dead silent now, the breeze having died down in a moment. Epoch looked up from his small loaf as the crickets died as well. Thre was someone or something else other than him out there that night. He shivered. Had someone followed him from town? It had been a concern of his since he had first learned that not all Humans were good and normal.
He quickly scarfed down the last of his food, gulping down his milk before packing the bottle away in his little messenger bag. He hopped off the little stone wall and took off down the path at a hurried pace. He didn't want to be out with no cover should an enemy wish to attack him. Did Dusts even have enemies? Other than Humans that is.
He glanced over his shoulder before suddenly bolting off into the woods, heading for the safety of his tree house. He would be able to fight from there, right? A moment of his memories of Hale drifting into his mind at the thought of actually fighting caused Epoch to trip, skidding face first through the dirt, roots, and leaves of the forest floor.
Covered in scrapes and bruises as well as lots of dirt, Epoch pushed himself up, sore from the fall. He quickly looked behind him to see if his pursuer had come upon him yet, but there was nothing, only the sound of crickets and the usual nightly forest sounds. He rested on his knees, panting from running, telling himself over and over under his breath that there was nothing there, and it was only his imagination.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
