I never enjoyed attention; rather, I prefer the comforting embrace of darkness and shadows. After always living on 'the wrong side of the tracks', unless you stay in the shadows and keep your head down, you're likely to lose it and any valuables you may have. Growing up, street and book smarts were as natural as breathing -- and just as necessary. Where I'm from, attention leads to conflict; blending in to the crowd and making an escape are vital. Now, however, I'm going to be faced with more attention than I've ever received in my full seventeen years of life. Nothing says attention like being the new girl on an island in the middle of nowhere.
Jorvik is a huge island in the middle of the sea, large as some decent-sized countries even. The surrounding countries are the United Kingdom, Germany, Denmark, Norway, and Iceland. Very little is known of Jorvik, save for being a tourist attraction like many other islands. However, hardly anyone seems to really remember anything on the place, as if it were nothing but a pleasant and brief dream. As if the entire island were shrouded in mystery and hidden allure. The island itself is pretty much cut off from the rest of the world, considering it's in the middle of a vast ocean. The boat ride alone took over a week to complete. I walked from the docks at Jorvik City to the nearest bus stop I could find. The bus I'm on now goes from Jorvik City to the countryside, some place called Moorland Stables. Jorvik has only one major city with several factions, the rest being vast countryside and smaller cities and villages. I've been on the bus for half the day, traveling across plains, forests, hills, and even mountains.
Jorvik is the perfect place for a kid like me, needing a place to lay low and just be away from the rest of the world. I'm moving to Moorland for the summer to work with horses and figure some stuff out. At least, that's what I keep telling myself; there's more to my reasoning than that. Yet, I know the real world isn't the same as a fairytale; I know I can't hide forever, but I can for a while. I can make a decent living wage while being a stable-hand. Since I've always excelled in technical fields, especially computers, I plan on going to college in that field. I plan to use this summer to build on my working skills ... as well as keeping a low profile.
Something tells me I'm going to get a lot more than that.
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Looking out the bus window, I see beautiful scenery I could only see at the park in the square of town. Even then, it was a far smaller version. I also see an opaque reflection of myself. I smirk as I remember one of the first times I used counter-surveillance techniques. I was five.
I hardly ever look in mirrors, so I examine my appearance. Pale skin; very slight freckles beneath my blue-violet eyes; long eyelashes and tear-drop shaped eyes; black, messy hair that goes passed my mid-back. I have a short and scrawny build. I could easily be mistaken for a young boy, especially with my clothing style. I'm wearing a black hooded jacket with a blue-violet tank top underneath it, torn-up black jeans, and black combat boots. The only makeup I ever wear is chapstick to keep my lips from drying and black eyeliner for special occasions. Occasionally, I paint my nails black, and they gleam like obsidian stones. At the moment, I'm not wearing makeup or nail polish; I have not done either in years.
Grabbing my black Bluetooth headphones from my shoulder bag, I go to my music and pick a random song, getting lost in the rhythm. After another three songs, the bus drops me off at Moorland Stables. I put my stuff in my bag and head for the open gates.
A horse trailer and small barn greet me to my right, a bit ahead is a modest riding arena. The smell of hay, horses, dust, feed, and leather fill the air. Ahead, before the riding arena, is a well and benches. I see a few of the campers chatting while they saddle up the horses given to them for the summer. A few walk together, and some simply sit, enjoying the day.
