[ fragments of the past ; here, the lotus floats ]

June 19, 2011 - 2:04pm — Rutilus

"I'm not staying here."

Clothes, parcels of food, pens and paper, and a single knife; all were shoved roughly into the large brown bag set on the tiny single bed. The room was bare aside from this bed, walls decaying, floorboards cracking, and dust hanging heavy in the air, illuminated by shafts of sunlight through the chipped open window.

He rose, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder, lips pressed together defiantly as stone-grey eyes stared coldly at their maker; his mother. The woman - though not human, for in this realm humans were an inferior species, and admittedly even those that looked like them were often considered so - looked back at her son, tears brimming in greyish green eyes. She shook her head.

"I've no choice. You have one day before I tell him. He'll send the dogs after you."

"Let them come."

The young man pushed roughly past her, and was gone.

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