The Story Weaver

Exotic Fish are Like That

"I don't give a bloody damn who you think you are in charge of, I am not going to some hoo-donk village that is off the coast of God-knows-where, just leave me ALONE." 

There was a point in my protesting about an hour ago that I was forced to realize that not only did Valeron not care about where I was and was not going to go willingly, but he was also okay with any one of his 'personal protection crewmen' picking me up and carrying me wherever he wanted me to go anyways. It was obnoxious how frail he was making me feel. I mean, the only real reason why it was so easy to pick me up and move me places against my will was because of the tranquilizers that were used in the hospital. It turns out those things lasted a very, very long time.

I looked out the window of the limo that I was currently being held captive in, at the increasingly desolate landscape around us. We had to have been driving for at least four hours, all the while his stupid, glorified bodyguards were squishing me in the middle seat in the tail end while my apparent uncle was typing away meticulously at a computer in front of me. He only glared up at me a few times whenever I used some choice words to get his attention. Turns out this side of the family isn't too fond of profanity. Sucks for them, because I used it often enough that they were going to get a pretty healthy dose of modern cultural language from that moment forward. 

I scowled out the window for at least thirty more minutes, scheming every possible way to escape the bleak future that seemed to be waiting at the end of this long-ass and boring-as-hell trip. 

We drove until there was practically nothing but dirt, a little bit of dead grass, and the broken dreams of the damned scattered everywhere. seriously, in that moment all I wanted to do was sniffle and curl up into a ball without so much as glancing in the direction of the situation that seemed to become bleaker and bleaker the further we got. But I was a prideful creature at that time though (still am) so despite the outlook on the situation I held my head high and refused to relent. 

There in the distance, I saw a large wooden building with an airplane that seemed too small to be for public use, so it was my assumption that it was some sort of private jet. Up to that point, Valeron had been carrying the kind of grace and attitude of someone higher up on the economic totem pole would have. I am not going to lie, I would rather deal with a  rich snob who had a private plane, rather than having to share a plane with so many other people for God-knows-how-long. At least I thought... 

Nope. Right as we were getting out of the car a taller and much leaner version of Valeron stepped down the stairs of the aircraft. He was less imposing in the sense that he was more relaxed in his surroundings, and he didn't bring eight followers and glorified bodyguards around with him, but he still carried that same annoying 'lick-my-boots-and-call-me-beautiful' attitude that made me grind my teeth in aggravation while in his presence. What an obnoxious family I'm from. 

"This must be Jade then. Father, tell me, when exactly did you plan to inform the family that she was due to arrive today?" 

'So, this is my cousin then' I thought to myself.

Then, oddly enough without skipping a beat, the taller and less imposing version of Valeron said, "Third cousin, I am your third cousin, Marick." 

He said it as if he knew what I was thinking. How odd indeed.

I scratched the back of my neck and nodded without sparing him a side-glance. It was obvious that he was irritated by my presence and I wasn't quite sure who he was talking about when he mentioned 'the family' He said it almost like he was talking about a business corporation rather than something personal, which gave me a good idea of what to expect.