The Fall of Enid: Sarasota

Ep1: Waking Up

Opening:

Two brothers dug at the soil, panting, pants and shirts soiled with dirt. They were digging at a hurried pace, with their hands, clawing at the dark earth. There was determination in the oldest, his brows furrowed, his jaw clenched, his silver eyes set in one direction: the soil. Get through the soil.

It began to drizzle.

"Luis," the youngest murmured, his eyes flickering behind them to the labor camp, a long distance below them. Very few light posts were on but many tents were dark. What if someone woke up?

"Keep digging," Luis commanded through gritted teeth, "It's here. It's here somewhere." His fingers touched something hard. He inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. "Here." He grabbed and pulled out.

A gray rock at first glance. Luis turned it in his hands for his brother to see and on the other side of the rock, there was a vibrant yellow mineral clustered across the length of it. It thrummed underneath Luis' fingers with energy.

Energy. A future in Luis' eyes.

"Luis," his brother breathed, eyes just as wide as Luis. Was it okay to hope?

The rain began to pour harder.

"Let's go," Luis said.

Episode 1: Waking Up.

A woman in a red-coat walked with determination towards the bedroom doors of another, her boots echoing down the hallway, alerting the servant girl that stood at the doors with untouched towels in her skinny arms.

The woman took note of the towels. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall above the doors that read 10:00 am and her lip curled in distaste. She ignored the servant girl who tried to squeak out a "Madam."

The woman pushed the bedroom doors open with enough force to make them bang loudly against the wall, allowing light from the hallway to seep into the darkness of the room. The curtains were still closed. There was complete stillness in the room; even the person underneath the sheets barely moved at the intrusion.

The woman surveyed the room before saying, "You are needed at the Table." She knew they were listening.

"I told you not to wake me." muttered the girl from underneath the covers, her voice rumbling with remnants of sleep.

The servant girl looked over her shoulder into the shadows, nervously.

The woman's eyebrow twitched. She took a moment before saying, "Salazar is requesting your presence at The Table."

There was a pause, a short test of wills, before the girl finally pushed herself up and the covers slid off of her, revealing a head of dark brown hair and olive-skin. She stared mindlessly at her lap, blinking, before saying. "Get out."

Mornings were not easy for some.

The woman turned towards the doors and told the servant, "Help her," before leaving.

In a private room, stood very few guards, lieutenants and advisors. Although there were several seats available for them at the large oval table, the only man that sat in the room was a silver-eyed man with dark hair.

There were streaks of gray in his hair that showed his age–or perhaps years of turbulence–and there were lines around his eyes where the skin had once been taut. He didn't look happy nor perturbed. He looked like an eagle, surveying the ground beneath him, looking for movement, for some target.

The two female servants that stood at the doors squirmed uncomfortably, their eyes downcast to avoid being seen, trying to blend into the velvet walls.