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metamorphosis2010-04-27 04:30 pm
flair) wrote in metamorphosis2010-04-27 04:30 pm
Entry tags:
82;
Title: Fireworks
Characters: England, Spain, mention of America
Rating: G
For LJ's 30smiles' prompt 'Explosives, black market'. I decided to do an RPG-verse. La Noche del Tigre means 'the night of the tiger'... held in Ricozado of this... RPG-verse... one day I'll make some sort of collective guide or something. Human names are used.
It was the festival they had been waiting for – La Noche del Tigre. It was only celebrated in this town – one they had trekked hundreds of miles to get to – and only once every five years. The town, usually small and quiet with houses made of the clay and mud, was alight with laughter and cheer among the red and orange paper lanterns. The square, usually cracked ad dry bricks with only a small fountain that seemed to almost be near drying out, was filled with people dancing in various colors, masks in one hand and fans in the other. They jeered and laughed, let their sensibilities run free; it was tribal, native even, and adventurers from all over flocked to see such a sight as the youngest women – virgins - dancing around candles in sheer cloth and saucy smiles.
They had come for tonight – as well as looking for a place to stay – and Arthur had taken one look at the crowds, then at the women, then to the sky, and quirked the side of his lip into a smile.
“You know what this celebration needs?”
Antonio dreaded the answer, but allowed himself to glance over with piqued curiosity at the thief who was, for the moment, an ally, if unwilling one brought by circumstances neither of them wanted.
“Fireworks.”
“Those are illegal. Where would you get them?”
“Black market.”
Those lips twitched again and Antonio nudged Arthur towards the revelers with his staff, shaking his head. The thief sputtered indignantly, grounding his feet as hard as he could while attempting to claim some sort of dignity (as much as a thief had, of course). The staff, long and covered in ceremonial charcoal, left a satisfactory mark on the rough, cream-colored fabric that Arthur called a shirt; the aforementioned man glared at him, hard, from beneath a red and brown bandana, before straightening his soft leather vest and marching on.
Even if his black robes swept the ground and tended to get caught on rocks and the cracked ground, Antonio kept up with his for-the-moment ally, humming a nonsensical tune as they reached the inn. It was quiet – likely because everyone was out enjoying themselves – and they dumped their belongings after renting a room.
He could feel the blood drain from his face.
Arthur just grinned.
“Are those—?”
“Mmhm. Fireworks. Explosives, actually, but I got Alfred to modify them well enough.”
“How did you—”
“Alfred works on the black market, love, there’s nothing he can’t get. Chemicals were the easy part of this.”
That damn blacksmith.
Antonio sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Arthur through one open eye and pursing his lips. Arthur just shrugged and nudged him out of the way, grabbing up the bags and peering out the window.
“Think that might be a good spot?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Within the hour sparks exploded above the crowd. They screamed in fright and delight, watching as red and green and blue appeared like magic out of the night air. Arthur smiled and lit another, throwing it up and down until the last second – he pulled back his arm and chucked it into the air high above the square, laughing as it exploded into a rainbow of colors. Antonio had, with much difficultly, climbed up to the high roof of the pueblo and sat with Arthur, watching the sparks shower down into smoke and oblivion. It was pretty, he guessed.
Of course, he mused, glancing at Arthur, nothing was more beautiful than seeing the useless thief’s face light up like the sun in the glow of green and gold light.
Even if it was illegal and he’d have to turn him in to the Church when they got to the next city.
Characters: England, Spain, mention of America
Rating: G
For LJ's 30smiles' prompt 'Explosives, black market'. I decided to do an RPG-verse. La Noche del Tigre means 'the night of the tiger'... held in Ricozado of this... RPG-verse... one day I'll make some sort of collective guide or something. Human names are used.
It was the festival they had been waiting for – La Noche del Tigre. It was only celebrated in this town – one they had trekked hundreds of miles to get to – and only once every five years. The town, usually small and quiet with houses made of the clay and mud, was alight with laughter and cheer among the red and orange paper lanterns. The square, usually cracked ad dry bricks with only a small fountain that seemed to almost be near drying out, was filled with people dancing in various colors, masks in one hand and fans in the other. They jeered and laughed, let their sensibilities run free; it was tribal, native even, and adventurers from all over flocked to see such a sight as the youngest women – virgins - dancing around candles in sheer cloth and saucy smiles.
They had come for tonight – as well as looking for a place to stay – and Arthur had taken one look at the crowds, then at the women, then to the sky, and quirked the side of his lip into a smile.
“You know what this celebration needs?”
Antonio dreaded the answer, but allowed himself to glance over with piqued curiosity at the thief who was, for the moment, an ally, if unwilling one brought by circumstances neither of them wanted.
“Fireworks.”
“Those are illegal. Where would you get them?”
“Black market.”
Those lips twitched again and Antonio nudged Arthur towards the revelers with his staff, shaking his head. The thief sputtered indignantly, grounding his feet as hard as he could while attempting to claim some sort of dignity (as much as a thief had, of course). The staff, long and covered in ceremonial charcoal, left a satisfactory mark on the rough, cream-colored fabric that Arthur called a shirt; the aforementioned man glared at him, hard, from beneath a red and brown bandana, before straightening his soft leather vest and marching on.
Even if his black robes swept the ground and tended to get caught on rocks and the cracked ground, Antonio kept up with his for-the-moment ally, humming a nonsensical tune as they reached the inn. It was quiet – likely because everyone was out enjoying themselves – and they dumped their belongings after renting a room.
He could feel the blood drain from his face.
Arthur just grinned.
“Are those—?”
“Mmhm. Fireworks. Explosives, actually, but I got Alfred to modify them well enough.”
“How did you—”
“Alfred works on the black market, love, there’s nothing he can’t get. Chemicals were the easy part of this.”
That damn blacksmith.
Antonio sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking at Arthur through one open eye and pursing his lips. Arthur just shrugged and nudged him out of the way, grabbing up the bags and peering out the window.
“Think that might be a good spot?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
Within the hour sparks exploded above the crowd. They screamed in fright and delight, watching as red and green and blue appeared like magic out of the night air. Arthur smiled and lit another, throwing it up and down until the last second – he pulled back his arm and chucked it into the air high above the square, laughing as it exploded into a rainbow of colors. Antonio had, with much difficultly, climbed up to the high roof of the pueblo and sat with Arthur, watching the sparks shower down into smoke and oblivion. It was pretty, he guessed.
Of course, he mused, glancing at Arthur, nothing was more beautiful than seeing the useless thief’s face light up like the sun in the glow of green and gold light.
Even if it was illegal and he’d have to turn him in to the Church when they got to the next city.