Chatterbox: Inkwell

So, being the easily sidetracked writer that I am, I have dumped both BD and my vampire story to write a story about Thursday Silvertongue, Melder and rebel against the Maq'can race, and Faro, captain of the Queen's guard. Here goes.

For those of you who aren't familiar with my style, be warned; most of my characters have a tendency to spiral into madness and general weirdness often ensues. Given that this particular story is centered around someone with a power renowned for its corruptability, you can bet that the descent will happen soon. Like, by chapter 1.

I have a working cover, which I may post if Mom's scanner starts working in the near future. I'd attempt to reproduce it via Flash or something but Faro's curly hair would be an absolute nightmare to draw digitally. 

And without further ado, I present you with my latest story... thing...

The working title of which is "Guns, Magic, Dragons"

*******

Prologue

Faro sat in the back of the pub, nursing a pint of weak ale. He tapped his armoured knuckles against the rough table, and tried to ignore the paranoid glances his official garb drew from the Reds, with little success.

The pub door opened and a small, cloaked figure entered. The figure limped awkwardly to the counter and almost immediately a drink was set out before it. Faro was impressed; not even the uniform of the royal guard had been enough to inspire such hasty service.

After a moment the figure flipped back the hood of its cloak, revealing long black hair and large dark eyes set in a pale, feminine face. She had a straight nose, thin lips, small ears.

Faro stiffened, slightly. His hand dropped to the pistol in the holster at his side.

The woman turned, as if sensing his gaze. Her eyes connected with Faro's, and a shudder slithered down his spine.

Her eyes were flat, completely non-reflective, but they seemed to burn with an inner light. The sort of eyes that could look right through a person, without revealing anything of their owner.

After a moment she smirked, picked up her glass, and limped over to Faro's table. She flopped down across from him. The metal fastenings of the braces encasing each leg flashed in the dim light.

"Have you come to arrest me, captain?" she asked.

"That's what they tell me, Melder. You're to be tried for multiple counts of murder, arson, heresy, and theft."

"You don't sound so very sure about that, dearie," she sighed, draining her glass. "Are you sure?"

Faro hesitated. "Yes."

The Melder shook her head. "Let's not play this game, Faro."

"You like games, as I recall."

"This one tires me. Tell me why you're here, Faro. I think we both know you're not going to arrest me."

"Well no," he said. "We've too much common history for that."

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their respective drinks.

"Come with me," she said suddenly. Faro almost flinched, remembering the last time, when he'd turned down the offer. "Come with me, Faro. Help me change the world."

Faro stared at her. She was a criminal, a killer, a lunatic. He'd have to be mad to side with her.

"Well?" she drummed her fingers against the table.

He didn't, or couldn't, answer, so he ordered another drink instead.

She smiled.

~

Well, he reasoned as they left, side by side, several drinks later, it had been a long while since he claimed to be sane anyway.

Neither of them spoke. The only sound Faro could hear was the faint scrape of the crippled Melder's gait and the sharp click-clack of his own boots. It sounded strangely unnerving, if he was being completely honest with himself.

In the end it was the Melder who broke the silence:

"Why are you here?" she asked. She sighed, stopped, turned to look up at him.

"Because you're Silvertongue. You can convince anyone of anything," he answered without thinking.

"Nonsense," the Melder snorted in reply. "I can only convince people of what they already know. You are here because you want to be."

"No..." Faro protested.

The Melder studied him intently. He squirmed under the gaze. "Why are you so unhappy?" she whispered, leaning closer.

"I'm not... I wasn't..." Hang it all, she was so dratted confusing.

"You were, Faro," she said simply. "You still are. Don't lie to me. We've too much common history for that, too."

The former captain stared at her.

"You've changed," he said at last.

She smiled ruefully. "So have you, dearie. Just like you promised you wouldn't." There was no accusation in her voice, no anger, just the long, sad silence of too many years gone by.

The two of them stood staring at each other, the Melder and the man who had dedicated his life to destroying her.

"It's late," she said softly, at last. "We should go." She turned and limped away, not bothering to look behind to see if he was following.

Faro sighed, muttered that he must be crazy, and followed after her.