Mach2 — Roleplayer Guild

Step, limp, step, limp. Sage made her way slowly through the town. Even with Baeslan masking any of the pain in her twisted left leg, she still limped. The way the bones had fused, it was easier to limp than to try to manoeuvre her leg into a normal walking pattern. Her eyes stayed on the ground, focused on a point just far enough ahead of her feet to keep from colliding with people. People passed her by, but she didn’t meet anyone’s gaze.

Not that someone would look at you anyways. Not aside from the passing glance. Human nature is funny, isn’t it? Everyone is so worried about offending you by staring at your gimpy leg…so instead they pretend you don’t exist…

Baeslan’s voice was a constant monologue in the back of her mind. A quiet whisper, always muttering biting words. Most of the time, Sage tuned it out. She continued her shuffling walk.

You realize if you didn’t spend all your time looking at your own feet, you might actually see something interesting. Like that note on the wall.

Like what note on what wall?

The one you’d see if you bothered looking up.

Even as Baeslan whispered in the back of her mind, Sage had looked up. Her gaze fell on the indicated note, and she slowly read through it. As she did, her face slowly fell. Often, Baeslan’s words were little more than malicious mutterings. He rarely had any intention other than mocking her or putting her down. But after two years of having his voice in her mind, she knew when he wanted something. In this case, she knew he wanted the stone.

“I-I don’t w-want t-to.” She was desperate enough to make her point that she spoke the words aloud, hobbling away from the note on the wall as quickly as her bum leg would allow.

I do.

Baeslan, please. I really don’t want to.

Sage knew that arguing was useless. Anytime Baeslan wanted her to do something, he got his way. She knew what was coming. He could coerce her so easily, because she relied on him so heavily. Sure enough, after only a few steps, a dull ache started up in her leg. Her limp became more pronounced, and the pain showed on her face. As Baeslan stopped masking the nerve signals from her leg, the pain of the damaged limb quickly hit her in full force.

She staggered, leaning against the wall for support. “Sto-stop!” the girl gasped under her breath, eyes shut tight. Passersby on the street looked at her now. Looked at her like she was crazy. “W-we’ll g-g-go.”

Excellent.

Immediately, the pain subsided. Tears of frustration in her eyes, Sage continued down the street. Step, limp, step, limp. Once again, she refused to meet anyone’s gaze.

In the week that followed, Sage’s anxiety in regards to the upcoming expedition only increased. By the time the appointed day arrived, she was a wreck. She’d tried countless times to persuade Baeslan away from the idea, but he remained adamant. Every time she’d tried, she had only been awarded with a few minutes of pain in her leg. Eventually, she’d given up.

Now, as she limped towards the gates, it felt as though the tolling of the church bells were counting down to her death. You’re so melodramatic. It’s going to be fun.

“Fo-or y-you, ma-ay-aybe,” she muttered under her breath, too quiet for anyone to hear.

She kept her head down. Others had gathered by the gates, and she found a spot near the back of the group. Standing behind a giant of a man with a club over his shoulder, Sage could pretend that no one could see her. But she could still imagine the stares. Oh yes, they’re staring. What’s this stupid girl doing here amongst the warriors? Look at her leg. Does she expect us to protect her? She’s going to get in the way. She’s going to get herself killed. That’s what they’re thinking, Sage. The girl cringed visibly at Baeslan’s words. Her twisted leg was well hidden beneath her skirt. But her off-balance stance and limp made it obvious that there was something wrong.

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Mad Hops

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