Mordecai
the traitorous queen
Home. The word annoyed Tavvy. When he heard the word home, he thought of his family’s home he lived in before his parents sent him away to London. He thought of how the smell of his favourite beef stew would fill the kitchen when his mother made it. He saw the faces of his mother and father, bound to one another in some almost magical way. Home meant sanctuary, as common and taken for granted as the sun rising in the morning. Looking around London, basked in a dusty late afternoon light of a sun already half sunken into the horizon, the young blonde, a man by the name of Tavarius Petrove, knew this was not a place he’d ever come to know as home. But for what is was worth, the city was lovely, especially in a twilight cloak-- glimmering in the moisture of rainfall. It always rained in the early evening, soft and slow, as if the ever-present clouds were shaking off the day. What had started off as a nigh mist at the beginning of his stroll only fifteen minutes prior had transformed into proper, Thoroughbred drops of rain.
The rain didn’t seem to deter him though as he continued through it, letting the droplets of cool water slide down his cheek bones and off the tip of his nose. His pointless amble led him along the path that connected the city of London to the Thames River. A fog rolled in from the dark waters, making the steamboats that passed by to appear ghostly. Their sails were all furled up for the night, but they continued to drift along with a sleepy purpose. Only the pennants on their topmasts were allowed to fly free and snap in the cool, autumn wind. A crackle in the air drew Tavarius's gaze away from the waterfront and away from his reverie of what home used to mean.
Tavvy took these nightly walks often. They were a chance for him to get away from the place his Uncle Olympus so affectionately referred to as ‘home,’ and clear his head away from the dingy confines of the small home. The house was small as it was, but made worse by the fact that the front two rooms were reserved for his Uncle’s feigned metal working business. The business was a false front, of course, to hide the more sinister happenings harboured in the house from the police, but that didn’t change the simple matter that Tavvy felt cramped in the small space. To say it was frustrating being cooped up all day, everyday, was about as accurate as saying an angry bear was unfriendly; however, there seemed to be something mentally chiropractic about his nightly strolls alongside the Thames.
There then came a crash and trees nearby swayed as the light, evening drizzle transformed again into a genuine storm. Tavvy nearly leaped from his skin at the snap of thunder, but forced his body to remain steady. Lifting his head, a distasteful expression pulled at the corners of his face. Oh, sure, he might have been able to convince the weather to stop its onslaught of rain, but it seemed unfair to play with Mother Nature in such ways just for the sake of salvaging a stroll. He would have started to make his way back to Uncle Olympus’ house once more had a man’s scream—loud and near—not suddenly rose from the depths of the nearby park before being cut off abruptly. He stopped short to stare out in the direction, but with the sun now completely consumed by the horizon and the park never having been outfitted with lamps, the night remained a dangerous wilderness that Tavvy’s sharp eyes couldn’t discern. He cursed under his breath, contemplating for a moment whether to just leave the entire matter alone and forget the scream entirely, but his curiosity plucked away at him until they wore what little resistance he had away.
Tavvy made his way down the foot of the path that led away from the Thames and into the park. It was early enough that there were still a handful of pedestrians in the park, probably making their way to or from work, but all their hustle and bustle was momentarily suspended as they stared out in the same direction towards what appeared to be a young woman. Tavarius couldn’t make her out very well, aside from a fuzzy outline of her shape, but she did appear to be the focal point of the onlookers’ attentions. Between rumbles of thunder, there did seem to be some mutters of surprise, but the noise hit his ears as nothing but gibberish, and he couldn’t make sense of why a small crowd had gathered to stare.
Tavvy was torn between curiosity and the certainty that he was better off not knowing. A cold sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. But he remained stationary, unable to convince his feet to start moving again as he shoved his hands deep into his coat pocket and continued to watch the scene as it unfolded—curious as to what exactly was going on. While London may never be home in a typical sense, it did certainly prove to be more entertaining.
Whatever was happening, it probably wasn’t good. The busy people of London rarely interrupted the flow of their day to bother with affairs that didn’t concern them. Now immensely interested, but annoyed with the rain, Tavvy casually lifted his right hand from his pocket and gave a small wave of his hand. It was a small gesture that would have gone unnoticed by most people; however, to any other Acerbus, it was quite clear he was subtly manipulating his powers. With a last cry of thunder, the rain immediately ceased under Tavvy’s rather boorish demand, but the sky remained black and bruised-- as if threatening to start another downpour as soon as Tavvy turned his back.
If nothing else, at least he could see a bit better now that it wasn't raining.
The rain didn’t seem to deter him though as he continued through it, letting the droplets of cool water slide down his cheek bones and off the tip of his nose. His pointless amble led him along the path that connected the city of London to the Thames River. A fog rolled in from the dark waters, making the steamboats that passed by to appear ghostly. Their sails were all furled up for the night, but they continued to drift along with a sleepy purpose. Only the pennants on their topmasts were allowed to fly free and snap in the cool, autumn wind. A crackle in the air drew Tavarius's gaze away from the waterfront and away from his reverie of what home used to mean.
Tavvy took these nightly walks often. They were a chance for him to get away from the place his Uncle Olympus so affectionately referred to as ‘home,’ and clear his head away from the dingy confines of the small home. The house was small as it was, but made worse by the fact that the front two rooms were reserved for his Uncle’s feigned metal working business. The business was a false front, of course, to hide the more sinister happenings harboured in the house from the police, but that didn’t change the simple matter that Tavvy felt cramped in the small space. To say it was frustrating being cooped up all day, everyday, was about as accurate as saying an angry bear was unfriendly; however, there seemed to be something mentally chiropractic about his nightly strolls alongside the Thames.
There then came a crash and trees nearby swayed as the light, evening drizzle transformed again into a genuine storm. Tavvy nearly leaped from his skin at the snap of thunder, but forced his body to remain steady. Lifting his head, a distasteful expression pulled at the corners of his face. Oh, sure, he might have been able to convince the weather to stop its onslaught of rain, but it seemed unfair to play with Mother Nature in such ways just for the sake of salvaging a stroll. He would have started to make his way back to Uncle Olympus’ house once more had a man’s scream—loud and near—not suddenly rose from the depths of the nearby park before being cut off abruptly. He stopped short to stare out in the direction, but with the sun now completely consumed by the horizon and the park never having been outfitted with lamps, the night remained a dangerous wilderness that Tavvy’s sharp eyes couldn’t discern. He cursed under his breath, contemplating for a moment whether to just leave the entire matter alone and forget the scream entirely, but his curiosity plucked away at him until they wore what little resistance he had away.
Tavvy made his way down the foot of the path that led away from the Thames and into the park. It was early enough that there were still a handful of pedestrians in the park, probably making their way to or from work, but all their hustle and bustle was momentarily suspended as they stared out in the same direction towards what appeared to be a young woman. Tavarius couldn’t make her out very well, aside from a fuzzy outline of her shape, but she did appear to be the focal point of the onlookers’ attentions. Between rumbles of thunder, there did seem to be some mutters of surprise, but the noise hit his ears as nothing but gibberish, and he couldn’t make sense of why a small crowd had gathered to stare.
Tavvy was torn between curiosity and the certainty that he was better off not knowing. A cold sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. But he remained stationary, unable to convince his feet to start moving again as he shoved his hands deep into his coat pocket and continued to watch the scene as it unfolded—curious as to what exactly was going on. While London may never be home in a typical sense, it did certainly prove to be more entertaining.
Whatever was happening, it probably wasn’t good. The busy people of London rarely interrupted the flow of their day to bother with affairs that didn’t concern them. Now immensely interested, but annoyed with the rain, Tavvy casually lifted his right hand from his pocket and gave a small wave of his hand. It was a small gesture that would have gone unnoticed by most people; however, to any other Acerbus, it was quite clear he was subtly manipulating his powers. With a last cry of thunder, the rain immediately ceased under Tavvy’s rather boorish demand, but the sky remained black and bruised-- as if threatening to start another downpour as soon as Tavvy turned his back.
If nothing else, at least he could see a bit better now that it wasn't raining.