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31_days2009-01-19 03:51 pm
seta-suzume.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2009-01-19 03:51 pm
[Jan. 19][Suikoden III] Fire Damage
Title: Fire Damage
Day/Theme: Jan. 19, 2009 "a conversation begins with a lie"
Series: Suikoden III
Character/Pairing: Wednesday, Tavin, Timurn, Hammil
Rating: PG
Continuing from 'Preventative Measures'
Wednesday kept watch over the blaze until morning. Though the citizens of Viela had made several noble attempts to dowse the fire, the calm gaze of the inquisitor general watching them through the smoke withered their resolve. By the time the sun had risen, all that remained of the Halkashi were the four stumps of the supports sticking out of the water. Charred wood floated back and forth, caught between the rocks. It was a rather interesting sight, at least in Wednesday's opinion.
He had allowed the other inquisitors to leave after the first two hours had passed, certain that the necessary damage was done. Only Tavin was left, snoring beside him on the grass. Wednesday allowed his gaze to linger over the young inquisitor. Tavin's skill was a bit questionable, actually, when anything more strenuous than altering books was involved, but Wednesday enjoyed his company. He was extraordinarily upbeat for an inquisitor and it wasn't just his youth. Four years had done little to jade him. He remained wide-eyed and cheerful no matter the task at hand. It was a good quality when stealth played a role in their missions. No civilian would ever guess he was actually an inquisitor, making him an extraordinary bait for catching heretics and other malcontents.
Tavin rolled over and yawned. "Let's go, Tav," the dark-haired leader said, rising to his feet. Something in his knee made a snapping sound as he stood. He certainly wasn't as young as he'd once been. The damp of the fields at night had managed to effect his joints.
"Yes, Sir," Tavin rubbed sleep from his eyes, stumbling in a groggy haze to follow the head inquisitor along the dirt road.
Wednesday shot the empty space where the bridge had been one last parting glance. "May heaven have mercy on their souls," he said grimly. He brushed the back of a heavy glove against his prominent nose and bristling black mustache. He didn't appear to mean the remark as a plea or a prayer as much as a cold statement of what was to come.
Didn't Wednesday pity them at all? Perhaps it was the ability to look at these things objectively that had led to his appointment as the inquisitor general in the first place. "...I am so glad that I'm not there..." he thought, peeking back over his shoulder at the wreckage. "I wonder how long it'll take..."
-----
Timurn Burnell, the mayor of Viela, had heard the chaos of the previous night from his bedroom on the second floor, but had chosen to ignore it. Having been the very person who reported the outbreak to Governor Folino, he had been expecting something of the sort. He knew how these things worked. Viela had never faced a crisis of this magnitude before, but Timurn had thirty years of experience as mayor under his belt and the precedent for isolating plague-stricken communities was there. Still, as he tired his short, yellow scarf and pulled back the curtain to see out the front window, he found the sight of the empty gap where the bridge had been quite a shock. "Goodness!" he exclaimed, stepping back from the glass. A good number of townsfolk were gathered at the shoreward edge of the island, frantically struggling to come to grips with the situation. Timurn leaned his hands back on the window frame and took a deep breath.
"What's wrong?" his wife inquired. She didn't seem to be aware of the dire situation of the island quite yet.
"It's, um, the bridge, Adessa," he tried to explain, before being interrupted by the worried pounding coming from below. Timurn opened the window to see Hammil, a youth who often did odd jobs around the Burnell household, pounding on the heavy wooden front door.
"Mayor Burnell!" he called, turning his attention upward after hearing the window open. "Sir, have you seen? The bridge is gone!" he yelled.
The mayor nodded cooly. "Go home, Hammil," he commanded, loud enough for the servant to hear, but not so loud as to broadcast his message to the entire town. "I'm not opening my doors to you...or anyone...Not until we receive word from the outside." Timurn closed the window again and pulled the curtains to cover it. When disease had appeared in Viela, he'd carefully sent all his servants away one or two at a time. He wanted to keep his home as secure as possible and he didn't believe he could force them to stay when they might be worrying about family outside the Burnell manor. The only household help left was Azel, whose family (assuming he had any) was hundreds of miles away in Koliere. Purchasing his contract, expensive as it had seemed at the time, had proved to be a sound decision.
"Mayor Burnell?" Hammil asked mournfully, seeing the window covered. There was no response.
"We're on our own now," Timurn remarked to his quivering wife, who had stood by and heard the whole thing. "Until the yellow flag rises... Or we're all dead."
Day/Theme: Jan. 19, 2009 "a conversation begins with a lie"
Series: Suikoden III
Character/Pairing: Wednesday, Tavin, Timurn, Hammil
Rating: PG
Continuing from 'Preventative Measures'
Wednesday kept watch over the blaze until morning. Though the citizens of Viela had made several noble attempts to dowse the fire, the calm gaze of the inquisitor general watching them through the smoke withered their resolve. By the time the sun had risen, all that remained of the Halkashi were the four stumps of the supports sticking out of the water. Charred wood floated back and forth, caught between the rocks. It was a rather interesting sight, at least in Wednesday's opinion.
He had allowed the other inquisitors to leave after the first two hours had passed, certain that the necessary damage was done. Only Tavin was left, snoring beside him on the grass. Wednesday allowed his gaze to linger over the young inquisitor. Tavin's skill was a bit questionable, actually, when anything more strenuous than altering books was involved, but Wednesday enjoyed his company. He was extraordinarily upbeat for an inquisitor and it wasn't just his youth. Four years had done little to jade him. He remained wide-eyed and cheerful no matter the task at hand. It was a good quality when stealth played a role in their missions. No civilian would ever guess he was actually an inquisitor, making him an extraordinary bait for catching heretics and other malcontents.
Tavin rolled over and yawned. "Let's go, Tav," the dark-haired leader said, rising to his feet. Something in his knee made a snapping sound as he stood. He certainly wasn't as young as he'd once been. The damp of the fields at night had managed to effect his joints.
"Yes, Sir," Tavin rubbed sleep from his eyes, stumbling in a groggy haze to follow the head inquisitor along the dirt road.
Wednesday shot the empty space where the bridge had been one last parting glance. "May heaven have mercy on their souls," he said grimly. He brushed the back of a heavy glove against his prominent nose and bristling black mustache. He didn't appear to mean the remark as a plea or a prayer as much as a cold statement of what was to come.
Didn't Wednesday pity them at all? Perhaps it was the ability to look at these things objectively that had led to his appointment as the inquisitor general in the first place. "...I am so glad that I'm not there..." he thought, peeking back over his shoulder at the wreckage. "I wonder how long it'll take..."
-----
Timurn Burnell, the mayor of Viela, had heard the chaos of the previous night from his bedroom on the second floor, but had chosen to ignore it. Having been the very person who reported the outbreak to Governor Folino, he had been expecting something of the sort. He knew how these things worked. Viela had never faced a crisis of this magnitude before, but Timurn had thirty years of experience as mayor under his belt and the precedent for isolating plague-stricken communities was there. Still, as he tired his short, yellow scarf and pulled back the curtain to see out the front window, he found the sight of the empty gap where the bridge had been quite a shock. "Goodness!" he exclaimed, stepping back from the glass. A good number of townsfolk were gathered at the shoreward edge of the island, frantically struggling to come to grips with the situation. Timurn leaned his hands back on the window frame and took a deep breath.
"What's wrong?" his wife inquired. She didn't seem to be aware of the dire situation of the island quite yet.
"It's, um, the bridge, Adessa," he tried to explain, before being interrupted by the worried pounding coming from below. Timurn opened the window to see Hammil, a youth who often did odd jobs around the Burnell household, pounding on the heavy wooden front door.
"Mayor Burnell!" he called, turning his attention upward after hearing the window open. "Sir, have you seen? The bridge is gone!" he yelled.
The mayor nodded cooly. "Go home, Hammil," he commanded, loud enough for the servant to hear, but not so loud as to broadcast his message to the entire town. "I'm not opening my doors to you...or anyone...Not until we receive word from the outside." Timurn closed the window again and pulled the curtains to cover it. When disease had appeared in Viela, he'd carefully sent all his servants away one or two at a time. He wanted to keep his home as secure as possible and he didn't believe he could force them to stay when they might be worrying about family outside the Burnell manor. The only household help left was Azel, whose family (assuming he had any) was hundreds of miles away in Koliere. Purchasing his contract, expensive as it had seemed at the time, had proved to be a sound decision.
"Mayor Burnell?" Hammil asked mournfully, seeing the window covered. There was no response.
"We're on our own now," Timurn remarked to his quivering wife, who had stood by and heard the whole thing. "Until the yellow flag rises... Or we're all dead."