Chromatically Cursed

CHAPTER 2

Song: Swell by Twin Caverns

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Emberly

Never be desperate. I promised myself to always be one step ahead. When you want something so bad you yearn for it, you make bad decisions. Bad decisions will kill you.

I quickly mix in with the crowd, looking everywhere for something to pick. The snow is heavy and wet, sticking to my clothes and soaking them through. The ground is covered with white rather than mud. The Altums are making their way to their carriages or horses.

I'm desperate.

My eyes jump from person to person, looking for anything loose. I slide a hand in the pocket of a Terre in front of me. Luckily he carries a coin bag rather than a wallet so I snatch it easily before stepping sideways and hanging back. He'll notice the loss of weight soon enough and I don't want to be in his line of sight. An Altum walks carefully along the edge of the crowd, gazing over all the booths. She has her purse on her arm, a silk handkerchief hanging halfway out. I brush past her and pull the corner, letting it slide out of her purse and into my pocket. I step back into the flow of people and eye up a young girl, maybe 14 or 15 years old. She's carelessly holding her purse on her wrist, open, its contents free to the world. Her mother has her back to her, absentmindedly nodding along to whatever story she's telling. I quickly catch up to them and pretend to trip, snagging her purse off her wrist completely, sending everything inside to the ground. She lets out a little scream and I start moaning like a drunk. Everyone looks around us but eventually moves on. She cries, "Mother! My purse!"

The mother sighs, "Well Agatha, maybe you shouldn't carry it on your wrist, open? Leave it now, we'll get you a new one. You don't want those Solum diseases anway."

Agatha groans but listens to her mother and walks away. I hold back a smile as I carefully shove all the items under me into my jacket. The ones that spilled further out I roll over and push them into pockets. It seems the universe is offering me an apology for the old bat this morning. "You there, get up and get a move on."

Scraps. I look around, hoping to find something to use. The Mag is armed, prepared to take me down if necessary. I have nothing on me but an old hunting knife that's as sharp as my non-existent fingernails. The snow is getting everything wet and I feel my fingers going numb. I don't even know where he came from. Could he have been watching me the whole time, seeing my sticky fingers reach into pockets?

There's no way I can get up fast enough to run. I shift a little and look to the other side. People have gathered and are starting to watch. I groan audibly and my head drops to the ground. The Mag steps closer, "Listen drunk, get up or else."

The crowd laughs. The Mag's heavy boots stomp closer, "Did you hear me? Move along!"

His voice rises towards the end and gives me a split second warning for what comes next. Pain swells through my ribs from where his boot kicked into them. Air rushes out of my lungs and I wheeze into the snow. The onlookers laugh, a couple cheer. The heavy steps circle me. I hear the sound of leather sliding over metal, and I know he's removing his baton from his belt. I scramble to my knees and try to crawl out of his reach. An empty stall is within my grasp, but he grabs my ankle, yanking me across the wet ground. Wintery mud sloshes against my cheeks, dripping down my chin. I sputter and spit, trying to keep it out my mouth. He sends a sharp kick to my back and I cry out. I quickly reach and grab my hood tightly, making sure to keep my eyes from sight.

He steps on my hip, holding me down. Ice picks on the bottom of his boots bite into my skin, snagging and tearing it apart. More and more people are cheering now. I forget about the cold, the blizzard, my missing gloves, my hunger, all of it, gone. All I can think about is the hatred lighting my body on fire. I quickly roll over, swinging my leg and wrapping it around my captor's ankle, pushing against him with all my might. Arms fly out trying to catch his balance, but the mud is too slick. He falls to the ground, and the crowd laughs.