♁▣♁ - ]] A blistering warm sun. It was such a regular climate the people, their bodies dressed to endure the sun’s painful rays. Locals were tanned by it’s warmth, their skin all bronzed from their daily lives outside. Despite it’s sweltering temperatures, everybody lived regularly, far too adapted to the desert climates.
With the town being so small, locals knew who belonged and who didn’t, and when a travelers came, they did not hesitate to show their disdain of them, especially to the lowly and homeless gypsies, the beauties that merely drifted through in hopes of finding a shard of hospitality until they moved on. But they weren’t at all startled when they were looked at with glares and practically chased away by every shop keep and villager. It didn’t take long for the locals to begin crying for “justice” against the filthy “harlots” as they called them, and one by one, the innocent travelers were taken away, disappearing off the streets at the hands of local guards from the palace. Some fled before they were taken, abandoning their companions and possessions, others were sold off to wealthy families as slaves or to harems. It was a dangerous time for the homeless bands. They meant no harm. They simply wanted a place to stay for a while, finding a shred of peace.
“You thieving rat! I’ll have you thrown in a cell, you animal!”
An angry shop keeper shook an angry fist, a plank of wood in his other hand as he gave a brief chase to the colorfully dressed gypsy. He spouted angry words to the fleeing youth but gave up the chase, knowing full well that these people were quick on their feet.
The aforementioned “rat” continued running, however, taking empty alleys and turns until he felt safe tucked away in an alley, locals passing by and failing to see the hidden youth. Nagisa, the lithe blond rover, gave a slow sigh and smiled at his prize. He’d risked his own neck for this.
A scrap of bread.
Hardly enough to fill his stomach but it did enough to quell painful hunger that set in near the beginning of sunset. With little regret or guilt, he shoved the scrap right into his mouth, indulging in the satisfying “feast” and dreading the oncoming dryness of his mouth afterward. He didn’t care though. With enough care, he could run out somewhere to one of the wells and sneak a drink before a civilian chased him away. And so he sat alone, fighting hunger and eating his pathetic meal with much gratitude, wondering how much longer he could keep up this entire thing. How long until he too was taken away by the palace guards and auctioned or sold away to some dank cell?