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message 1: by [deleted user] (new)

((Chapter 3 already! How time flies!))

message 2: by [deleted user] (last edited Dec 26, 2017 10:32AM) (new)

((can I rp??? Just ignore me if not))

The night was beautiful, and beautifully silent. Stars glowing right along with the ghost lamps that lined every street on Portland Row. Only one thing disturbed that peaceful sight, and-thank God-it was just a girl of about thirteen. On her back was a backpack that quite possibly was heavier and bigger than her, swinging at her side a thin intricately weaved chain of silver and iron. But that wasn't what attracted the most attention about her, in the girl's hand was a rapier and around her neck was a necklace with a heavy pendant hanging from a thick iron chain.

The rapier was ornate and decorated with gold and had chips of pure white stones-diamonds, presumably-gracing the handle which was made of dark, almost black iron; the colors contradicting yet working so well with one another. The blade itself was made of silver, with flecks of iron and gold that could be seen if you tilted it just right. At the end of the handle was a large chunk of gold with diamonds creating a ring around it. Yes, the young girl's rapier certainly was... Well, not flashy-but it did catch eyes with its dark and deadly promise.

Her necklace, made of the same type of iron, was inter-weaved with gold links and silver. Hanging at the end was a deep, depth-less-in color-emerald which certainly matched the girl's eyes.

Ah, but the girl herself was what made things fit and-all at once-seem off and strange. She was a short, but graceful little teen with wavy/straight ruby red hair that hung just above mid-back and eyes of the deepest green (matching her necklace). Skin paler than healthy, but this girl was definitely well exercised-if her toned arms and legs and grim face was any indication. Perhaps, some time in a past that felt like a life time ago, she used to laugh and joke, dance and play with her brother. Climb the, now a man, boy who'd been her best friend and keeper of all secrets. Even with their lack of love in their family, at least she'd known she'd have her brother to always rely on... Before he left.

Stopping at 35 Portland Row, the girl's slender fingers went up to rub at the jewel hanging from her necklace. Frowning at the building, she suddenly felt so much smaller than she was-but of course that was foolish. "Nothing to fear Lina, I'm right here, alright? No stress.." Swept away, once again, in a memory of auburn hair and bright eyes so full of honest love and raw hatred for a family who refused to care for the two children. They might as well've been orphans, their parents were so distant-so impossible to reach.

Blinking away at drops of water, refusing to recognize them as what they actually were: tears. This is it Lina, you're going to go up to those people and request-no-demand their help! Reassuring herself, the girl shouldered her heavy back pack crammed pack with all the things that were really important to her; and all the things that'd been important to her brother.

Tugging out a picture from her jean's pocket, in the photo a family of four stood. The parents in the back, hands barely brushing their children's shoulders with expressions that were practiced and forced. The children were both red heads, one with darker, longer hair and the other a replica of the father. But there was something there that was different, perhaps he had more feeling in his eyes, more of a smile on his face? Whatever it was, it distinguished the son from the father in a great way if you were to look for it.

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