Post by Everette on Sept 13, 2009 1:33:03 GMT -5
The fabric was cool to the touch, like the kind she used to love as a younger child. You know the type: the clean, newly washed bed linens, fresh from the Autumn breeze that kissed at the cloth as it hung out to dry. Pinched between her fingertips and palm, Everette pulled the clothing close into her chest as she passed by the rotting table in which it was resting on. Though the sun was high above in the sky, the early season chill was enough for an over shirt.
As she surfaced from the door-less building into the street, Eve shrugged her shoulders forward and pulled the sleeves tight across her arms as her hands emerged from the loose cuffs draping at her wrists. Indeed, the sun was bright today, casting a hazy, golden reflection through the very air itself. It was enough to bring the girl's eyes to a squint.
The weather was nice, though; bringing the families outside to chatter and do their errands while they were permitted. Naturally, the entire district was vibrant with noise and infected with life. The local children chased each other down the streets, skillfully dodging and hiding behind the carts that would ease on if the mass of people would part long enough to allow them through. The old women, as per usual, hoarded the fruit carriers and fabric sellers if, by rare chance, they had the extra change to spare in hopes of making a new shirt or pair of breeches for the working men in the family. The older men, many too old to do the manual labor that was only left available for jobs, hugged close to the side of the roads, complaining about one thing or another. Occasionally a mother, one or two far along and expecting, would call after one of their boys and scold them for rough-housing.
These people were the soul of Dysprosium. The heart of Elysia. The essence of Everette's respect. None of them, including herself, had much to their names, if anything at all; though what they did have, they cherished and made the most of. Far too many of them were without food each night, or even a permanent shelter. Joscelin did as much as he could, but it would never be enough to keep all of them from going hungry at least two nights a week, or sleeping in filth. Even Eve herself lacked a title to a piece of land or a deed to her own home. What she left in Nepheline still belonged to her father. She was always offered a place at the Prince's Castle, Cat's Paw, but she never took him up on it.
Perhaps it was her stubbornness or her cherishing of personal privacy, for crowds of that nature was never her forte. At least not twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Cat's Paw was always crowded, usually over stuffed with the hungry homeless who took advantage of Joscelin's generosity, though she couldn't blame them. Nor did she mind it, really. These were her fellow citizens of Dysprosium, and she would give the shirt off her back if she could afford the loss. More often than not, however, her job required the various costumes; many of which she had to make herself.
______________________
So many down-turns humanity had taken. No one could trust the government anymore; not even the rich, though they had less than half the worries as the middle and lower classes did. It had always been bad, hardly nowhere near comfortable as everyone wishes, but over the course of her young life, it had only gotten worse and worse until now. The people had little options left to choose from. Work, work, work. So many of the men were working themselves to death; the women alone to raise the children and teach them what they alone knew. No one could afford education, no one had the time for a decent education. Even the children were working, taught at such a young age the weight of responsibility and what would befall them once they were old enough to take over the family household.
Everette was genuinely distracted by her thoughts, by the reminding sense of reality that she forced herself to take in and observe each day. The people around her smiled because they had to; they needed to. Struggle would forever be apart of their lives, and it was something that many of them had accepted. But for those that refused to allow the same to happen to their children or their grandchildren...Those like Everette and Joscelin and Madox and so many others that had the courage to stand up against the corrupt policy of the world. This concept, this rich-get-richer, poor-die-quicker concept that was no longer a possibility to deny was something that they would not accept. And maybe their common goal would never be achieved in their lifetime. Maybe the victory would not come with their generation, but the many after...It was all that they wanted. To give the chance of vertical mobility in the social class one day.
______________________
The leather bound ball that skidded to a stop so close to the toes of her worn boots caught her off guard. She had drifted so far into her mind that she had actually loss her sense of surrounding. At the calling of her name from the boys and girls further down the mucky road brought her attention to; and a smile to appear across her unpainted lips. They chanted for her return, awaiting the ball to come flying back to them so they could continue with their game. Each one of them were caked in dirt; their dingy clothes permanently stained from sliding, falling, playing as a child deserved to.
"Come on, Evie!"
Bringing her gaze back down to the ball, she allowed a giggle to escape and her thoughts to disappear. With a gentle, but firm, swing of her leg, she sent the makeshift toy, in great need of repair, skidding down the broken and damaged street and began to chase after in play with the much younger children. This was a daily routine for them all.
As she surfaced from the door-less building into the street, Eve shrugged her shoulders forward and pulled the sleeves tight across her arms as her hands emerged from the loose cuffs draping at her wrists. Indeed, the sun was bright today, casting a hazy, golden reflection through the very air itself. It was enough to bring the girl's eyes to a squint.
The weather was nice, though; bringing the families outside to chatter and do their errands while they were permitted. Naturally, the entire district was vibrant with noise and infected with life. The local children chased each other down the streets, skillfully dodging and hiding behind the carts that would ease on if the mass of people would part long enough to allow them through. The old women, as per usual, hoarded the fruit carriers and fabric sellers if, by rare chance, they had the extra change to spare in hopes of making a new shirt or pair of breeches for the working men in the family. The older men, many too old to do the manual labor that was only left available for jobs, hugged close to the side of the roads, complaining about one thing or another. Occasionally a mother, one or two far along and expecting, would call after one of their boys and scold them for rough-housing.
These people were the soul of Dysprosium. The heart of Elysia. The essence of Everette's respect. None of them, including herself, had much to their names, if anything at all; though what they did have, they cherished and made the most of. Far too many of them were without food each night, or even a permanent shelter. Joscelin did as much as he could, but it would never be enough to keep all of them from going hungry at least two nights a week, or sleeping in filth. Even Eve herself lacked a title to a piece of land or a deed to her own home. What she left in Nepheline still belonged to her father. She was always offered a place at the Prince's Castle, Cat's Paw, but she never took him up on it.
Perhaps it was her stubbornness or her cherishing of personal privacy, for crowds of that nature was never her forte. At least not twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Cat's Paw was always crowded, usually over stuffed with the hungry homeless who took advantage of Joscelin's generosity, though she couldn't blame them. Nor did she mind it, really. These were her fellow citizens of Dysprosium, and she would give the shirt off her back if she could afford the loss. More often than not, however, her job required the various costumes; many of which she had to make herself.
______________________
So many down-turns humanity had taken. No one could trust the government anymore; not even the rich, though they had less than half the worries as the middle and lower classes did. It had always been bad, hardly nowhere near comfortable as everyone wishes, but over the course of her young life, it had only gotten worse and worse until now. The people had little options left to choose from. Work, work, work. So many of the men were working themselves to death; the women alone to raise the children and teach them what they alone knew. No one could afford education, no one had the time for a decent education. Even the children were working, taught at such a young age the weight of responsibility and what would befall them once they were old enough to take over the family household.
Everette was genuinely distracted by her thoughts, by the reminding sense of reality that she forced herself to take in and observe each day. The people around her smiled because they had to; they needed to. Struggle would forever be apart of their lives, and it was something that many of them had accepted. But for those that refused to allow the same to happen to their children or their grandchildren...Those like Everette and Joscelin and Madox and so many others that had the courage to stand up against the corrupt policy of the world. This concept, this rich-get-richer, poor-die-quicker concept that was no longer a possibility to deny was something that they would not accept. And maybe their common goal would never be achieved in their lifetime. Maybe the victory would not come with their generation, but the many after...It was all that they wanted. To give the chance of vertical mobility in the social class one day.
______________________
The leather bound ball that skidded to a stop so close to the toes of her worn boots caught her off guard. She had drifted so far into her mind that she had actually loss her sense of surrounding. At the calling of her name from the boys and girls further down the mucky road brought her attention to; and a smile to appear across her unpainted lips. They chanted for her return, awaiting the ball to come flying back to them so they could continue with their game. Each one of them were caked in dirt; their dingy clothes permanently stained from sliding, falling, playing as a child deserved to.
"Come on, Evie!"
Bringing her gaze back down to the ball, she allowed a giggle to escape and her thoughts to disappear. With a gentle, but firm, swing of her leg, she sent the makeshift toy, in great need of repair, skidding down the broken and damaged street and began to chase after in play with the much younger children. This was a daily routine for them all.
