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tamingthemuseTitle: Born From Something So Small
Fandom: Original
Prompt: sericulture
Warnings:
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Some meetings are foreordained.
She held the basket protectively before her, glaring at the people that stopped to stare at her. She was an odd one, her hair long and black, hanging in her face and around her shoulders down in wild waves to her hips. Her feet were bare and muddy and the little scraps of clothes she was wearing did little to protect her from the elements.
There was a light drizzle misting the chilled air as the police arrived to pick her up. She went with them willingly enough, but refused to break her hold on the basket, clutching it to her chest as if it were her lifeline.
She didn’t speak, and made as if she couldn’t understand a word of English. Once at the station, she sat on a hard plastic chair, her feet only just touching the ground, her thin arms still tight around the straw-woven basket. She chewed her bottom lip and looked around her as if she had never seen such a place as this and ignored the people walking around her.
She couldn’t ignore the man that had stopped right in front of her and was staring hard at her. She glared at him, her brows lowered into a deep vee over her bright blue eyes. She curled one side of her mouth at him in a silent snarl when her glare didn’t send him on his way. His eyes widened then flicked down to the basket in her grasp and she reflexively tightened her hold on it.
She watched as he blinked rapidly, gathering himself, and wetted his lips before he approached her. She shifted on her chair, her lithe body tensing, ready for either a fight or flight.
He carefully lowered himself to the seat beside her and she edged away from him.
“Hello,” he started with, then cleared his throat. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Her eyes narrowed even more and she turned her body away from his, protecting her basket.
He hesitated a moment before folding his hands on his lap. She took the moment to study him. He was tall, taller than any man she knew back home, but most of the men here were. His hair was as black as hers and his eyes were so deep a brown that they appeared black as well. His skin was paler than hers, but looked ready to tan once in the sun’s embrace.
His short hair was a mess, sticking up in places and curling over his ears where it had grown out some. There were tired bags under his eyes and the whites of his eyes were red with unrest and he smelt faintly of spirits.
“You look as if you’ve been through hell and back.” His eyes were trained on her bare arms where several small scratches had left thin lines of blood behind. “Where are you from?”
She closed her eyes and her fingers curled around the basket, making the twines creak under the pressure. After a moment, she slid her eyes open and looked at him.
“I must return to the temple before its too late.” Her voice was surprisingly low, lilting with a foreign accent he couldn’t place, and he stared at her for a long moment before he remembered his manners and dropped his gaze.
“Where is this temple?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I will not tell you. Release me. I will find my own way back.”
“I’m not the one holding you here.” She glared at him, then at the officer behind the desk who was filing paperwork. She shifted in her seat.
“I can’t stay here.”
“What’s the rush? Are you in trouble?”
She shook her head, her hair falling into her eyes and he could only just make out a pout on her lips. She didn’t look at him when she said, “We are all in trouble if I don’t get back to the temple.”
He felt a chill spread over him at her words and he shivered. Her words were silly, of course, but the faith in her voice was too much to just ignore.
“What trouble is coming?”
Her head whipped up and she glared at him. “Who are you? Are you with the bandits?”
His brows arched high, “Bandits?”
“You’re after this aren’t you?” She pulled the basket closer, if that was possible. “I won’t let this fall into the wrong hands.” She suddenly stood and he quickly followed suit, gathering his jacket from the chair as he did so. She was short, he noticed, only just reaching his shoulder, and he guessed her to be around eighteen years old. She looked around the station, and when she realized that nobody was paying any attention to her, she started walking toward the door.
He followed, his curiosity leading him.
Once outside, she hesitated and suddenly looked like a scared, lost child. She looked left and right, holding her basket tightly and licking her lips. She felt him pause next to her and glanced at him. He watched her try to speak several times before she finally forced words out.
“I-I don’t know my way.”
He smiled and spread out one hand toward the city around them. “Lucky for you, I know this city like the back of my hand. Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll get you there.” She turned fully toward him and studied his face again.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
His smile slipped away and he shrugged. “You’re going to have to take a gamble, I suppose.”
Another intense stare was leveled at him and finally she nodded. “I suppose so,” she said then moved away from the door to the station. “So I will claim you as my guide and your duty will be to protect this basket while we’re in your city.”
He followed her, checking the time on his watch, wondering when his girlfriend or boss was going to start harassing him for being locked up over night. He decided he would much rather follow this strange girl around than deal with the real world just yet. “Can I know what’s in the basket.”
She nodded and knelt beside a small grassy area. She set the basket down carefully and pried off the lid. Inside were small branches of a plant he couldn’t name and each leave was covered in tiny worms. He frowned in mild disgust and looked up to her to see her smiling fondly down at the mass of worms.
Very carefully, she reached into the basket toward the bottom and pulled out a small black object that sat heavily on the palm of her hand. She smiled up at him.
“I was right to trust you,” she said, confusing him. She leaned forward, cupping her free hand around the black ball. It was about the size of a marble and reflected no light. “This, is a fledgling god.”
His eyes widened and he gaped at her. Was this all make believe? Was she trying to pull his leg?
“What’s with the worms?”
She carefully replaced the ‘god’ back inside the basket. “Every god is a god of something. This will be the god of my people’s future.”
“Who are your people?”
She looked up at him and studied his face a moment with a soft smile curving her lips. “My people are your people.” She looked at the people walking the street. “Their people.” She replaced the lid and gathered the basket back into her arms. “But I must return the god to its temple, else all of our people will suffer.”
He was still looking at the basket, his mind working. It took him a moment, but then he realized what kind of worms would bring about a new religion. He looked up at her. “I still don’t understand.”
She stood and looked out at the people still busily going on with their lives. “My people are your people’s past. I have to get back to the past, to the temple, to save this god, this culture. Without the silkworms, there will be no society built around it, and thus, no history for your people to grow from.”
He shook his head. This was too fantastical. “I don’t believe you. You’re making this all up. Time travel? Really?”
She narrowed that bright blue gaze on him. “Believe what you want, but you said you’d help me find my way back. You’ve said it before the god; you can’t go back now.”
“Alright, I’ll play this make believe with you. Where do you have to go?”
She smiled brilliantly. “I have to find the place where the elements meet. I arrived through that place, and through it I must return.”
He sighed and finally stood. He was too jaded and old to be doing this, but the girl seemed to be so innocent at times, he wondered just what he was getting himself into. He draped his jacket around her shoulders and looked away as he felt a flush rising to his cheeks.
“Okay, we’ll start by getting you some decent clothes so the police don’t pick you up again.”
Fandom: Original
Prompt: sericulture
Warnings:
Rating: PG 13
Summary: Some meetings are foreordained.
She held the basket protectively before her, glaring at the people that stopped to stare at her. She was an odd one, her hair long and black, hanging in her face and around her shoulders down in wild waves to her hips. Her feet were bare and muddy and the little scraps of clothes she was wearing did little to protect her from the elements.
There was a light drizzle misting the chilled air as the police arrived to pick her up. She went with them willingly enough, but refused to break her hold on the basket, clutching it to her chest as if it were her lifeline.
She didn’t speak, and made as if she couldn’t understand a word of English. Once at the station, she sat on a hard plastic chair, her feet only just touching the ground, her thin arms still tight around the straw-woven basket. She chewed her bottom lip and looked around her as if she had never seen such a place as this and ignored the people walking around her.
She couldn’t ignore the man that had stopped right in front of her and was staring hard at her. She glared at him, her brows lowered into a deep vee over her bright blue eyes. She curled one side of her mouth at him in a silent snarl when her glare didn’t send him on his way. His eyes widened then flicked down to the basket in her grasp and she reflexively tightened her hold on it.
She watched as he blinked rapidly, gathering himself, and wetted his lips before he approached her. She shifted on her chair, her lithe body tensing, ready for either a fight or flight.
He carefully lowered himself to the seat beside her and she edged away from him.
“Hello,” he started with, then cleared his throat. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
Her eyes narrowed even more and she turned her body away from his, protecting her basket.
He hesitated a moment before folding his hands on his lap. She took the moment to study him. He was tall, taller than any man she knew back home, but most of the men here were. His hair was as black as hers and his eyes were so deep a brown that they appeared black as well. His skin was paler than hers, but looked ready to tan once in the sun’s embrace.
His short hair was a mess, sticking up in places and curling over his ears where it had grown out some. There were tired bags under his eyes and the whites of his eyes were red with unrest and he smelt faintly of spirits.
“You look as if you’ve been through hell and back.” His eyes were trained on her bare arms where several small scratches had left thin lines of blood behind. “Where are you from?”
She closed her eyes and her fingers curled around the basket, making the twines creak under the pressure. After a moment, she slid her eyes open and looked at him.
“I must return to the temple before its too late.” Her voice was surprisingly low, lilting with a foreign accent he couldn’t place, and he stared at her for a long moment before he remembered his manners and dropped his gaze.
“Where is this temple?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I will not tell you. Release me. I will find my own way back.”
“I’m not the one holding you here.” She glared at him, then at the officer behind the desk who was filing paperwork. She shifted in her seat.
“I can’t stay here.”
“What’s the rush? Are you in trouble?”
She shook her head, her hair falling into her eyes and he could only just make out a pout on her lips. She didn’t look at him when she said, “We are all in trouble if I don’t get back to the temple.”
He felt a chill spread over him at her words and he shivered. Her words were silly, of course, but the faith in her voice was too much to just ignore.
“What trouble is coming?”
Her head whipped up and she glared at him. “Who are you? Are you with the bandits?”
His brows arched high, “Bandits?”
“You’re after this aren’t you?” She pulled the basket closer, if that was possible. “I won’t let this fall into the wrong hands.” She suddenly stood and he quickly followed suit, gathering his jacket from the chair as he did so. She was short, he noticed, only just reaching his shoulder, and he guessed her to be around eighteen years old. She looked around the station, and when she realized that nobody was paying any attention to her, she started walking toward the door.
He followed, his curiosity leading him.
Once outside, she hesitated and suddenly looked like a scared, lost child. She looked left and right, holding her basket tightly and licking her lips. She felt him pause next to her and glanced at him. He watched her try to speak several times before she finally forced words out.
“I-I don’t know my way.”
He smiled and spread out one hand toward the city around them. “Lucky for you, I know this city like the back of my hand. Tell me where you’re going, and I’ll get you there.” She turned fully toward him and studied his face again.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
His smile slipped away and he shrugged. “You’re going to have to take a gamble, I suppose.”
Another intense stare was leveled at him and finally she nodded. “I suppose so,” she said then moved away from the door to the station. “So I will claim you as my guide and your duty will be to protect this basket while we’re in your city.”
He followed her, checking the time on his watch, wondering when his girlfriend or boss was going to start harassing him for being locked up over night. He decided he would much rather follow this strange girl around than deal with the real world just yet. “Can I know what’s in the basket.”
She nodded and knelt beside a small grassy area. She set the basket down carefully and pried off the lid. Inside were small branches of a plant he couldn’t name and each leave was covered in tiny worms. He frowned in mild disgust and looked up to her to see her smiling fondly down at the mass of worms.
Very carefully, she reached into the basket toward the bottom and pulled out a small black object that sat heavily on the palm of her hand. She smiled up at him.
“I was right to trust you,” she said, confusing him. She leaned forward, cupping her free hand around the black ball. It was about the size of a marble and reflected no light. “This, is a fledgling god.”
His eyes widened and he gaped at her. Was this all make believe? Was she trying to pull his leg?
“What’s with the worms?”
She carefully replaced the ‘god’ back inside the basket. “Every god is a god of something. This will be the god of my people’s future.”
“Who are your people?”
She looked up at him and studied his face a moment with a soft smile curving her lips. “My people are your people.” She looked at the people walking the street. “Their people.” She replaced the lid and gathered the basket back into her arms. “But I must return the god to its temple, else all of our people will suffer.”
He was still looking at the basket, his mind working. It took him a moment, but then he realized what kind of worms would bring about a new religion. He looked up at her. “I still don’t understand.”
She stood and looked out at the people still busily going on with their lives. “My people are your people’s past. I have to get back to the past, to the temple, to save this god, this culture. Without the silkworms, there will be no society built around it, and thus, no history for your people to grow from.”
He shook his head. This was too fantastical. “I don’t believe you. You’re making this all up. Time travel? Really?”
She narrowed that bright blue gaze on him. “Believe what you want, but you said you’d help me find my way back. You’ve said it before the god; you can’t go back now.”
“Alright, I’ll play this make believe with you. Where do you have to go?”
She smiled brilliantly. “I have to find the place where the elements meet. I arrived through that place, and through it I must return.”
He sighed and finally stood. He was too jaded and old to be doing this, but the girl seemed to be so innocent at times, he wondered just what he was getting himself into. He draped his jacket around her shoulders and looked away as he felt a flush rising to his cheeks.
“Okay, we’ll start by getting you some decent clothes so the police don’t pick you up again.”
