The Light
In most major cities, the smell of sulfur would fill the air. Here, in Whaler, the air smelled only of the salty ocean air and of rotting fish. If one were to wander over to the oil docks, the smell of dead whales and tar would overwhelm the senses. It was truly awful, even for the long time residents.
Akarai avoided the docks as much as she could. Not only due to the smell, but the sight of a dozen whale corpses lined up to be gutted and turned into food and jewelry. Those days, the streets of the oil docks would run red with whale blood. On those days, the jeering shouts of the fishers and butchers could make one sick with anger.
Today, unfortunately, she had no choice but to walk those streets. One of the dock workers - an Enforcer - had commissioned a painting of his daughter, and had demanded Akarai herself bring it to him at his worksite. While she had wanted to say no, he had paid a hefty amount, and as a result she was forced to walk down the bloody street, carrying the large parcel with her.
Akarai's stomach tightened into knots as she walked by the currently empty hooks, grey, dead flesh still hanging from the gleaming metal in rotting chunks. Bile rose up in her throat. She quickly focused on the once-grey, red tinged bricks beneath her shoes.
"Ah, lil' lady. Is that my order?" The woman had to catch herself on a cutting table stocked high with whale fins, the Enforcer sneering down at her with his ugly, scarred face and receding hairline.
"Yes!" Akarai spoke quickly, handing over the parcel and accepting the coin purse that was handed to her. Stowing the heavy purse into her satchel, she flashed a queasy smile at the heavy set man. "I do hope it is to your liking?"
The man nodded, barely glancing at the painting before he wrapped it back up in the protective cloth. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and a gruff thank you - and Akarai was more than happy to leave the streets she so dreaded. This was a place where whale songs died; it wasn't a place she wanted to linger in.
On her way out, walking the pathway that led back into the lower district where she lived, a flash of blue light caught her gaze. Perhaps others would have ignored it, maybe not even seen it. Akarai however, was drawn to the bright glow of cobalt, like a piece of the ocean had snuck its way into the old pathway.
Following it, too curious to ignore the streak of neon, Akarai found herself standing in front of a building that appeared to be condemned. Vines choked the walkway up to the door, blackberry bushes snagging at her clothes when she walked too close to them. Nobody had lived here in a long time. As she set her hand on the warped door, a tiny voice in the back of her mind warned her of the unseen dangers.
But, lingering somewhere deeper than her bones, a song in a language she didn't know; a whale song that was longer, more yearning and full of a longing she wasn't able to comprehend. It felt achingly familiar. As if someone had sang it to her once before...
So she opened that door. Pushed on the abused wood until it gave way and swung open into the dusty entrance room. She breathed in the stale, dusty air, tasted the scent of smoke and sulfur; the scent of magic.
No one occupied the ground floor, but the clean track through the thick layer of dust meant someone had been here recently. And the sounds above meant they were still here. Trying to move quietly, Akarai carefully shut the door behind her and started up the creaky, old stairs. Whoever was in here could very well kill her. Honestly, the rotten floor boards might kill her. Nobody would find the body for a long time, no one would bother report her as missing.
The thrill of the danger sang in her heart, and she pushed onward. All the way up the stairs she went, and towards the only bedroom that hadn't already been turned upside down - she would just ignore the dark, forbidding stains on the walls here.
A soft, lazy sort of light spilled out into the hallway from the open doorway, blue flickering and fading over the old, crumbling walls.
Slowly, wincing with each creak of the wooden floor beneath her feet, Akarai crept into the room, a little too eager to find the source of this warm, flickering light.
And find it she did - or, to be more accurate, Akarai found her.
An elf with pale skin stood in the room, blue embers flickering in her hand. As the tall woman turned to look at Akarai, she took note of the dust on her black pants, the singe marks on the sleeves of her blue blouse, and more importantly, the amulet of magic dangling from her neck. An elven mage, here, in the city? If she were to be found by anyone other than Akarai...
The elf seemed too shocked by the artist's appearance to do more than stare at her, the embers faltering and dying in her hands. And then, the flames grew again, stronger than before, curling around the elf's long fingers like an adoring lover's hand.
"I won't tell!" Akarai shouted, quickly standing up from her crouch. She lifted paint stained hands up, trying to placate the elf so as to not die horribly. "I'm sorry! I...I saw the light, from the street..."
The elf said nothing, but she had yet to burn her to a crisp. A long moment passed, in which Akarai dared not move or lower her arms, before the elf finally dropped her flaming hand, the blue fire vanishing from sight.
"Were you with anyone? Did you tell anyone I was up here?" The elf approached fast, easily trapping Akarai against the wall when she moved to stand in the doorway.
"N...no, nobody knows I came up here. I don't think anyone else saw what I did, either." Akarai nervously clasped her hands in front of her, both curious and scared of this strange woman. "Are...are you a mage?"
"...if I tell you that I am, are you going to run to tattle to the guards?"
"No, I'm not." Akarai took a deep breath before she offered the elf a nervous smile. "I...I'm Akarai. I'm an artist from the lower district."
The elf regarded her with dark, wary eyes, and this close Akarai could see a scar that bisected one of her eyebrows.
"So, you're a nobody." Wow, ok, rude.
"Depends on who you ask. Are you a nobody, miss breaking and entering?" She crossed her arms over her chest, and the bite in her voice made the elf take a step back, now looking at Akarai with a more appreciative gaze. Was that respect in her cold eyes?
"We both broke into this house." The elf cocked her head, then turned towards a cluttered table. "I am Varacynii, I am a mage, as you saw."
"Where are you from?" Akarai followed after, peering over Varacynii's shoulder to look over the tools and books scattered over the tabletop.
"Well, er, I'm not from here. I came in on one of the fishing boats. Paid them to keep quiet. Slipped in here through a back window a few days ago. Been here since."
"You're not...registered?" In any of these human dominated cities, being a non-human creature meant being registered. Being registered meant a horrible life of poverty and bias. If a creature wasn't registered, they were considered illegal.
It was a death sentence, and a choice only made by those who couldn't afford to be seen. Akarai knew this all too well.
"I'm an elven lady who practices magic and I don't like authority or men pissing on my life. If I was registered, I'd be dead before dawn." The taller woman gave a quick smile, hurrying to pack her bag.
"That's good." Akarai picked up a strange, hooked tool, testing the serrated edge with her fingertips. She ignored the look thrown her way. "I'm unregistered, too."
She handed the tool over, smiling at the expression on Varacynii's face. She flounced off towards the doorway, turning to beam at the elf.
"Care to join me for tea, Varacynii? And maybe stay with me, too? My place is rather small, but I'm sure a clean hammock would be better than this dusty old house. And it's easier to hide among others like us."
Akarai was pleased when the elf threw on her dark cloak, shouldering her bag with a relieved smile.
"I'd love to stay with you. Beats this musty dump. Lead the way and I'll follow, my dear."
