The Curious Case of Casity

Chapter 1.

Casity sat quietly on the edge of her river, in the same place she always sat; It was in the center of town, very public, and banked in on all sides by stone walls that people liked to hang over for pictures. But she still thought of it as hers. Everything dirty and forgotten here belonged to her in some way, from the half-dead birds she would nurture back to health, to the tall stone buildings left to rot in the darkest corners of the city.

An artist's notebook sat on the girl's lap, and the same box of watercolor paints she had used for the past four years lay open on the cobblestones next to her. She tilted her head as she worked, examining the stretch of water in front of her and adding little details that reflected what the area must have looked like years past.

What was now only wooden stubs on either side of the canal had been transformed into a huge stone bridge spanning the width of the river in her art, with old cars and even a few carriages passing over it. Young girls stood on the edges of the stone streets, tossing rocks into the water or chatting with boys flying kites above the river. There was a thick smog hovering over the scene, blocking out the sun and casting shadows on the already dark channel. A factory that had burned down nearly fifty years ago pumped out smoke in the distant background.

Casity dipped her paintbrush in the little cup of water sitting on top of her box of watercolors, leaning away from her painting and examining it with the eye of a harsh critic. It would have looked amazing to any outsider, but to her it wasn't quite right. A poor brush stroke had brought a girl's skirt down a bit too low; the bridge should have been roughly a foot more arched; one of the men passing by wasn't postured properly for the era...Lots of little things that she knew didn't matter in the end, but still bugged her. She never could get any sort of landscape portrait right on the first try, as many times as she attempted it.

"Interesting style." A voice said from above Casity, startling her. Her eyes widened for a split second and she braced herself to run, before she took a deep breath to regain her composure and glanced up to see who had spoken.

A tall man in a red sweater and black slacks looked back at her from beneath a gray flat cap, his eyes barely visible behind the unruly mop of dark brown hair hanging over his face. He smiled, turning back to her painting. "You have a good eye for detail. Where did you learn?" He asked.

"I taught myself." Casity said, scrutinizing the man carefully. He seemed nice enough, but anyone willing to approach a random girl they didn't know had to be up to something; and Casity was completely certain she didn't know this man. He was far too refined looking to be one of the rugged sewer rats she had met on the streets in the past, and she had never gotten along with polite company very well.

The man nodded, glancing between her painting and the river. "You're very talented, in that case. And you must read a lot to know the history you're using as inspiration..." He prodded, watching Casity out of the corner of his eye.

Casity frowned a little. "I got banned from the library. But even back when I was aloud in there, I didn't read anything about history. It's boring and difficult to understand." She turned back to her paints, pretending not to notice the man continuing to scrutinize her as she washed the edges of her painting in a light brown to age it. "I learn stuff about the city from people I meet. It's just little tidbits and stories, but I'm cursed to remember every second. I might as well get some sort of use from all of it." She sighed, a tiny bit irritated to be forced to recall just how bad she was at forgetting things.

The man tilted his head. "Do you paint all the landscapes you hear of, then?" He asked. He seemed genuinely curious now, although Casity still didn't trust him for a second. His eyes were too intelligent for him to be just a regular passer by interested in her work, and the way he carried himself showed that he was ready to pull something at any second. The only other people she had ever seen acting like he was had been cops and rapists, and there was no way he was a cop.