Aραтιтє - A Steven Universe OC Story

Chapter 1 | Leaving Empire City

"What happens in Empire City, never sleeps!"

          That was what I've been told ever since I've entered this world about this city. The grand city among many; the one and only Empire City. Whatever I've been told for the past sixteen years isn't a lie, by the way. Even though I've only been stuck in this city and not any others, it's hard to compare, but from my life's experience I can tell you that this city never sleeps. Twenty four seven, this city is bustling alive with noises of all sorts and bright, blinding lights. It may be beautiful, exquisite or pleasing in some way to a tourist; but for someone who has been living here their entire life? It can get irritating. 

          I, Abigail Lorette, jam my hands into my pocket after grabbing my hoodie and pulling it over my head. Before leaving my dad's apartment, I packed all of my clothes and a few other things into my novelty doughnut backpack. Honestly, I love this backpack because it was personally shipped to me after my dad and I entered a sweepstakes-sorta thing for the Wacky Sacks company. It's one of the few memories I cherish, since my dad and I spent two days writing the essay you needed to write in order to participate. The times back then were great, but now since Dad got a new job and a... girlfriend, he rarely has any time for me. If you can't spare a minute to be with your kid, then you obviously don't need one, right?

        Keeping my head down, I walk by the edge of the street, passing by a number of people. Every now and then, I would sigh quietly before hastily avoiding a group of tourists that seem to enjoy flashing their cameras and lights into people's faces and the scenery. Trying to keep myself to the side and avoiding the crowd was pretty easy to me; who would stray an eye at some random kid when you can glue your oculars at the bright buildings? 

          I keep walking, and walking, and walking. That is, until I meet with another group of tourists that are blocking the street I've been walking on. They're all crowded around something, or perhaps someone. I raise an eyebrow before trying to stealthily go through the crowd, because stepping on the grass would be rude and stepping on the road would earn yourself a loud tooting of a horn. Maybe, if I gently placed my toe on the pavement, a car would run right over it. But why would I do that?

          After tripping a few times on foreign feet, I make it out of the audience calm, right before a loud gasp is emitted from them. I decide not to wonder what for, and continue my walking until I'm stopped by a strangers' voice. "Wait a moment! You there!" An older man standing on a box says loudly, while enthusiastically pointing at me. He looks gaunt, but not in a bad way. He has slicked back charcoal hair that hides beneath a large, wide-brimmed top hat. He also looks funny wearing a dark penguin suit, while also carrying a long, skinny cylinder in his hand. I don't understand until I approach him; he's supposed to be a stereotypical magician. 

"Come come! Don't be shy, young girl! Please, be my assistant for the while! I'm assured that you'll have a rather magical night, as you shall witness the powerful magic of-"

          I cut him off with a look of ennui, with droopy eyelids and a hanging bottom lip. "What are you going to do? Pull a rabbit out of your over-sized hat? Pull a bouquet of flowers for a damsel out of your sleeve? Turn a white tissue into white doves?" Although it was a rude thing to point out, it was really what the "average" magician did. And really, there's nothing whimsical about that at all. The jet black haired man only looked away, but it wasn't hard to tell that he was blushing in embarrassment, because everything I said is true. Though it wasn't because of the fluffy tail sticking out of his hat, nor the flower petals leaking from his sleeve. 

"If you would really like to be a magician, learn more about real magic. Doing simple card tricks takes a simple mind to do it."

          With that being said, I left the thin man in a suit away, while listening to the uncivil comments made by the tourists as they left. I did feel bad however and turned back to the now crimson cheeked fellow who was now stumbling off of the box to only sit down on it. I could feel the shame radiating from him onto me. I do not know this person, and this may be his actual job, making street cash by doing something anyone can do. I search my pockets for a few dollars and place it in his hand before leaning down and whispering a piece of, not advice but positivism, in his ear.