Jacques "Jack" Vernadega is a redheaded protagonist born by a couple that died from (seemingly) unknown causes when he was six. At twelve, he ran away from his foster home to pursue a better life. He was stuck alone and wandering the streets until h...
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Jacques quietly ambled up to the street's corner, the ambient chatter of the city filling his ears. The yelping of dogs had eventually died down through the chatter. The twelve-year old had found safety... however for only a mere span of minutes. What if an adult grew suspicious? If news of his escape travelled that quickly, then by now should the entire town know about it.
Goosebumps trailed up frail, freckled arms and he took a deep breath. Raising up his head as best as possible, he tried to gaze out down the side streets for an exit out of the main plaza. A trolley travelled down one of the roads, a soft bell jingling, and suddenly did the youth's mind kick into overdrive.
That's it!
The ginger-haired boy meandered into a group of passerby, making his 4'11" height useful. The crowd surrounding him eventually hid his face as he followed them, making his way down onto a more secluded part of the plaza. If he got on one of those trolleys at the right time, he should be able to leave.
So absorbed in his plan, he eventually waited as the group clamored and stayed at their heels. There were conversations about shops downtown, and where to eat, and what to see next. If anything, these people seemed to be tourists. Shoes rapped against the sidewalk under, and Jacques' eyes watched. They eventually passed out to one side of the four-way: cars stopping at a crosswalk of brick and plaster that ran across the asphalt. His gaze became hopeful, shifting to the street lights above.
Green... yellow... red.
With nimble legs and high steps, Jacques peeled from the crowd's tumult, and made a dash across the road towards the trolley station. It hurt; all the pain from his legs returned, and he egregiously made pursuit at the corner far in his view. People gazed from their cars in amusement and some with no care at all.
A jingle from one of the stores on the corner made a tune as the door opened, and an elder stepped out of it with low eyes. He caught a glimpse of sandy red hair and with a huff did his face scrunch and he closed the door behind him. "Damn delinquents..." He mumbled harshly under his breath then heard the loud stomping of boots and tipped his head to the side. A man from up the street had seen the young boy and started running after him, clad in worker's wear. "Hey! Hey!"
The elder had let out a huff and took a sip of the drink in his mug. "This city needs more security."
Jacques listened to the environment around him. Peaceful... cars traveling, stores open, feet shuffling. Quickly. Were people supposed to calmly move that fast?
The answer was simply put - no.
He heard a third, sharp "Hey!" and his eyes widened in fear. With a sudden turn of his head, he saw an employee from the foster care run after him, face of anguish and anger. Shit! Fear immediately crawled up the boy's spine and Jacques let out a gasp, turning towards the front in shock and running faster. Freedom had suddenly spiked to desperation. The adult in pursuit shouted frivolously at the boy with threats and curses, and in a panic did the redhead fearfully dip into an alleyway within a crowd. His head suddenly made contact with something, and he fell to the ground.
Then all of a sudden, there was black, and the smell of ... soft fabric and firewood.
×××
"Excuse me, young man. Careful where you're travelling." A rustic, accented voice called out from the dark. Jacques stumbled back, voice high and tainted with the need to escape. "I-I'm sorry! Someone's running after me!" He called out in alarm, tears streaming down his face. He heard no response, yet the blurry figure (or figures) shifted in silence, as though hearing something... then the call of the employee rang through the alleyway Jacques had stumbled into. He had gathered a group, calling as their voices grew near. "Hey! Get back here!" The man yelled, voice at too violent of a tone. A raspy cry echoed from the boy's voice in distress and suddenly, he felt a grip on his wrist. The redhead was pulled to his feet and was suddenly running once more. The figure in front of him made a sound and ran deeper into the dim alleyways, the youth having no choice but to follow. Soon there was the heavy echo of steps behind him and all the boy remembered was a loud dispute as he kept running, pounding steps, then suddenly...
... a bell's jingle, a soft click, then muffled silence.
The figure had pulled the boy into a dark-lighted shop, locking the door on the inside to keep the employees out.
"...This is far into the alleyways, child. They'll think they've lost you," the voice called once more. Jacques quietly sniffled, mumbling a low "thank you".
"What's your name?"
"J-Jacques."
There was a quiet "hm" in response, then with the echo of whimpers, the figure seemed to shift with a clink before handing out something to the child. "Take this glass."
Jacques looked up, taking it into his hands and taking a slow sip. Water. "Thank you..." He mumbled in response. There was the clinking of metal, and then a light. The male above had lit a match to light the room, and the child was glancing at his shoes. Black leather, clean and polished.
His eyes moved up. He saw a tailcoat and chestnut brown pants. Do people even wear tailcoats these days?
Then, he saw a well-tailored jacket and the sound of metal once more. A click, and the saw the lighter turn off. However... a light remained.
A scarf of tightly knit fibers.
The boy's eyes gazed farther up and his body froze.
The man's head was a lantern. Black, clean bars framed the victorian-themed item and inside was a candle with a soft, yellow flame.
"What's the matter?"
"You're... who are you?"
The man paused, then took a step back. "Ah. I'm a shopkeeper. My apologies for not telling you." He nodded his head, then gently reached his hand out to shake the boy's own. At his side was a slender, chrome cane.
However, Jacques refused in fear. "No! You're a monster... what are you?"
The man paused. "Excuse me?" Something rested in one of the boy's hands, and he had caught a glimpse of its sheen. It sparkled within his fingers, the light from his candle illuminating it. "You... can see me." He began, astonished as he watched the trinket. The boy was trying to open the door behind him, shifting as he pulled the trinket from the shop keeper's view. "I don't want to be in here anymore! Let me out!"
"Don't be so loud. Let me talk, boy." The shop keeper spoke sternly and sharply, holding his hand against the bars of the lantern in irritation. Jacques could see the flame of the candle grow, smoke and the scent of firewood pooling from the framework. The twelve-year old, exhausted, eventually slowed to a stop and soon looked to see what he had to say with furrowed brows.
The shopkeeper took a step back, raising his gloved hands. "I couldn't see what was in your hands. I apologize." The man pressed a hand to his chest and lowered his body in a bow. A drop of candlewax hit the wooden floorboard below. "My name is Ensley."
"I..." Jacques mumbled. "I... expected you to have a... a monster name. The name of a monster." Jacques eventually commented, speaking lowly with a pout of discomfort. The crackle of the stranger's flame warmed the room.
The man turned his head after a moment of silence. "Okay. Firstly, you shouldn't call oculatums 'monsters'. That's quite rude."
