Trigger Warnings!: Mentions Of Sharp Objects, Blood, Cursing

Trigger warnings!: mentions of sharp objects, blood, cursing

The Winner takes it all chapter 2

Vander Sythe, Grindle Foxglove, Harleen Diabel.

Three of the most prestigious names in the history of human Trainers.

Jesse Brookes was not prestigious. Nor was he a Trainer.

He was however a lumberjack and worked quite efficiently with wood, owing a small business of sorts up in outer lands sector, in the region of Tavers.

Living a bit away from the busy and bumbling towns he didn’t get much action in his everyday life- apart from his job of course. Which is why when he got an offer to supply and deliver wood for the Selecting Trials coming up quite soon he accepted.

He wouldn’t call himself a humble man in any means, but he would admit he was pretty sheltered from what happened in society.

He knew of humans, though had never bared witness to one, from what he was told they were sent to live in comfortable secure sectors all around the map, hidden from society given all their needs to continue on.

Point was, it was not a common occurance in the slightest for Giants to see a human.

Bar once a year.

The Selecting Trials.

Humans of any age could sign up to show off their skills to Giants and have a chance at being scouted and trained in different sports categories, allowing them to come live in a luxurious lifestyle and be taken care of by the Giant so long as they entered other races in the future.

Unless a human had been scouted, it was illegal to have a human in a Giant household.

He himself wasn’t so sure on these terms but so long as nobody was hurt then he didn’t see much issues.

For the most part humans and giants lived separate peaceful lives and so long as that was the case then he supposed he could let it slide.

It was a crisp cloudy afternoon by the time he had arrived, accompanied by his finest men- and only men. Wilbur Dawson, Owen McRee and Zachary Downes.

A short stout man with an odd moustache had weaselled his way up to them, and by the look of his face Brookes had a feeling it was going to be a long day.

“Gentlemen-“

He eyed them head to toe

“I er- think.. anyways! There is much to do and you lot are very late! Very late indeed”

Owen -who already wasn’t onboard with agreeing to this job- rolled his eyes and looked down to continue picking at his fingers

The persistent man stretched out to look past them

“Is..is there any more of you? Or..”

Brookes had stepped in to reassure the man. They weren’t a lot. But they weren’t daft men either. But dealing in business had led him to meet all sorts, and this man was no different.

“Just this lot, and we are more than capable, just point us in the direction and we can start setting up. Apologies for our timekeeping, wagon wheels don’t match too well with a rocky road.”

The man didn’t seem to be convinced, a quick gaze to the their mode of transport, and the horned beast pulling it, but with a quick nod he directed them to the right

“I see. Well, just down that hill then. The main grounds have already been cleared and seating has already been started, you can start with the frames for today. Should you need anymore wood there is a vast enough woodland just down the valley. Do please refrain from reaching out for assistance, we are very busy, there is much to be done, just use your brains.. if possible”

he said with short jovial laugh, patting Wilbur on the shoulder then turned heel and headed in the opposite direction.

Wilbur, angrily dusting off his shoulder, watched him with a glare

“wanker.”

Owen, who couldn’t agree more nodded with a playful judgemental tone eyeing the man as he proudly walked away “yeah, does seem a bit of a ball ache doesn’t he? You sure know how to pick ‘em boss.”

Zachary watched the man leave smacking Owen over the head “Keep it down! He hasn’t even made it down the hill yet!”

Owen scowled slapping him in the same manner in return “all the more reason for us to say it louder. Must be hard to get a message through that thick skull, posh bastard.”

Wilbur snickered and took a breathe preparing to shout after him only for a large hand to be quickly placed over his mouth earning a mumbled passionate protest from Wilbur

Brookes pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired sigh, removing his hand from Wilbur’s maw

“this job has good pay, bastards or not, we need to stay professional. We will only be here for three jobs or so. Just keep it together.”

Owen and Wilbur shared a matching expression and caved in with obedience, while Zachary repetitively nodding gave a firm “yes boss”.

The group unloaded the wagon and with a stretch headed to work.

——

Eleanor felt sickly. And not just from her poor health, but from the thought of having to join Lavender Maxwells clique in the training grounds of the Decker.

She didn’t need more wounds before the Trials.

Through the mangy crowded alleys she kept to the sidelines watching different lives pass her by. The Decker was filled to the brim and it was full of very different individuals.

You could learn a lot from watching from the sidelines, which by chance is what happened when she a particular conversation caught her ear.

Two men said idly sipping from the cartons as they organised papers into a box. Eleanor squinted- it was the entry forms for the Selecting Trials.

“I can’t believe Larry’s gotta go up there today. Like actually go up there. Make conversation with those..things.”

The other man scoffed ”please he don’ gotta do none of the sort. He jus’ gotta deliver. Besides, he ain’t permitted to speak. Hand off the forms, keep the head down. Be seen no’ heard. Plus, he’s lucky in a way. He has permission to leave this shit hole. I ain’ ever seen the real sky, or trees or..ya know.”

The first man sipped and nodded nonchalantly.

“I suppose. How long you reckon he’ll be?”

The second man shrugged

“Couldn’t tell ya, I hear he’s gotta travel through the forest first. Once out it could take ‘im an hour or maybe less, to get to the main facility anyways. Better enjoy the silence while he can. Them guards ‘ill scare the ballocks outta ‘im”

The first man tilted his head as did Eleanor.

“How do ya mean?”

Sending an incredulous look the second man laughed “ well they probably ain’ ever seen a human before! With us being bloody locked underground an’ all! They’re bound to be a bit curious!”

The first man gulped

“And you called the poor chap lucky. When does he leave?”

The other man peeled around the corner at who she could only assume was the ‘Larry’ man in question

“From the look of things, I’d wager twenty minutes. So we bes’ be gettin a move on with these forms”

Eleanor perked up.

A secluded forest, alone. She’d be able to practice..see the outside world before the selection made her fear it.

She could fit behind them crates, she was skinny enough. Though, being skinny wasn’t exactly anything new from malnutrition and lack of sunlight the undercity provided.

She just had to be precise. And quick.

She needed her bow.

——

“Look at them. The sorry fools. They haven’t worked a day in their lives”

Axes swung through the air, chunks flying through the air, and despite the cloudy sky the heat was building up. Owen and Wilbur had taken to chopping while Brookes and Zachary focused on the finer work.

Zachary rolled his eyes “ yeah well, you won’t have to watch for much longer if you get your work done faster.”

Owen mimicked him under his breath earning a snicker from Wilbur.

“Come on Zach! let us have a little fun, it’s not everyday you get to poke fun at the rich and privileged!” Wilbur justified.

Zachary had stopped listening at that point focusing his attention back to Brookes, who had stopped his work and was in a deep count of their stock muttering a gruff "shit" beneath his breathe

“Boss?..everything ok?”

Brookes groaned, stating firmly

“we need more wood.”

Zachary looked down bewildered- the pile was big enough in his opinion

“boss not that my eyes are as trained as yours but..it seems we have plenty, are you sure?”

Brookes grunted and stood up, dropping his blade and snatching his axe, tying it precisely to his belt.

"Must've miscounted. It shouldn’t take to long.”

Without another word he stomped down the hill making way for the forest past all the construction.

——

Eleanor hurried, her ripping shoes only worsening as she dashed through the wet floors, her legs being splashed and subjected to the filth and grime.

Hopping over crates, pushing through people, and not stopping for a breath she kept her sights on the training grounds up ahead.

People made their comments as they saw were she was headed, but by now she was used to them, the Decker was an grimy piss-pot, an ill miserable place full of ill miserable people, who weren’t afraid to voice their thoughts.

“Poor girl. She don’t have much time left”

“Them Trials gonna eat her alive”

“A goner to be sure”

“We should place bets, at least that way we’ll be guaranteed money.”

Making her way through the main gates into the dark hallowed hallways taking an immediate right, rushing in and clashing into none other than Desmond Fitzgerald.

He whipped around eyes that surged annoyance, only for expression to change amongst seeing just who had bumped into him “oh-“

She didn’t have time. If he was here Lavender wouldn’t be far.

She kept her pace making a beeline for the weapons hung by the wall lit up by a single flickering torch.

“H-hey I.. I’m sorry..I’m sorry about Lav..”

No time.

Vambraces strapped on, bow secured on her back and arrows loosely hung against her hips by a flimsy rope, this endeavour had already cost her ten minutes. It was gonna take another ten to make it back!

As she made it clear in her lack of halting, she had other places to be.

Before she could leave however he grabbed her arm

She snapped her gaze back to him, a wild look in her eye. Desmond had never single handedly hurt her, rather watched from the sidelines.

She supposed there was a first for everything.

“..I meant it- the apology. I.. I thought the knife was a bluff”

All it took was a little blood to get him to see the twisted ways of her little group? She’d heard enough and before the boy could continue she was out the gates thrashing through gasping civilians in a determined manner.

Desmond called after her

“Please! Just.. I needed to warn you..”

Once back in her first spot she twirled all around to see the wagon had already left.

She wanted to scream.

Panting she slumped over, to think she’d need that stamina for the Trials.

With a defeated demeanour she walked along the pathways beneath the balconies of each house, passing taverns-

“Move it!! I am on a strict time schedule!”

She sprang up in fright, had she done something wrong?

“You seem- you seem to be- to b- slow- fer a fella rushing” a drunken man slurred

The bar just up ahead. Another casual tavern showdown it seemed.

“For your information you drunken for these are the forms for the Selecting Trials! Now get off the road!”

Eleanors dull eyes brightened as slowly but surely she began to run, taking a right and just before her- the wagon.

Thank goodness for drunken idiots.

Blending in with the busy streets she crawled on, keeping a trained eye on each man switching ever few seconds. And once she had settled she let out a breath. This was it.

The situation seemed to have dissolved and before long her ride and reached a stop.

The main gates. No human that hadn’t prior persimmon or knowledge from the authorities had ever made it this far.

Once papers had been thoroughly examined, they were back on track and with a screeching cry the rusty gates were hoisted up and out they went into the unknown.

It was only really then that an unsettling feeling resided within her. She could be killed for this. This was very much illegal.

The sickening feeling had remained until they reached a clearing. And truly emerged.

She had seen paintings, heard story’s, listened to drunken fools sing ballads. But nothing could ever compare to the actually thing, that much was clear.

Crisp fresh air filled her poor lungs as heat- real heat- sank though her sickly skin. Real grass, real trees, so lush and green, they stood tall and mighty.

And real sky- the sky enamoured her but it also caught her off guard.

It was grey. She began to doubt the reality of those so called ‘stories from above’.

But besides that everything else was real. No fabrication, fake lighting, no crowded streets or polluted noise.

Just simplicity, the only sound being that of the horse trotting against the baron mud along with the wheels and occasional twittering of birds.

She’d only ever seen dead ones- pheasant to be exact when rations gave out bird meat before switching to rodent.

And there lay the forest, just as those two men had predicted. This was her stop.

Crawling to the edge she slipped off, tumbling roughly to the ground. A metallic tasting liquid blossomed onto her cheeks as she smudged at her nose. Bleeding, but at least nothing was broken for once.

As she tracked through he seemingly forgotten trees, mesmerised at their foreboding heigh, she distanced herself into a clearing. Perfect

With bow now in hand she reached down to her waist, her first arrow sliding by her string.

There were many names attending the Trials but nothing compared to the main three.

Vander Sythe, Grindle Foxglove, Harleen Diabel.

From the tales, they had a reputation and they were a difficult trio to impress.

Harleen Diabel was her go-to in particular. She had a fondness for archery.

A few calculated shots before the esteemed Harleen and she could prove she was worth something. That she was more than just the hopeless case the Decker saw her as.

With her body turned to the east, her legs an even width apart and head turned to her target she pulled back her string, her arms wobbled from her latest missed lessons thanks to a certain group.

She focused herself, closing one eye.

And as she let went to let go, her left arm stung beneath her poorly crafted vambraces her fresh wound coercing with the flaky leather, causing the released arrow to go haywire spiralling into a different direction.

And so she collected her shot and tried again.

And again.

And again.

And by her tenth try she had released, her right hand knocking back into her head with a harsh whack.

She stumbled backwards, her eyes burned as she held in her tears. She just needed to concentrate!

Faster!

Stronger!

Focus!

The voices in her mind morphed into her mothers.

Tears slipped down her cheeks

AGAIN

AGAIN

AGAIN

A-

With a cry she threw the bow, she stood panting as her eyes revelled in sweet release, fresh tears stained her dirty cheeks.

She turned away from the direction it had flown in slumming down by the nearest tree.

It was moments like these were she truly felt isolated, and the worst part she hated admitting was that loneliness was just a brutal feeling, it was reality.

It was a kill or be killed world. People only watched their own backs, took what they could, gave nothing back.

An odd feeling ricocheted through the ground beneath her.

Not even her own mother cared.

Thumping.

She had been cheated from her childhood.

Louder.

Had never truly experienced happiness, never cracked a real smile in earnest.

Closer.

And all her chances of ever experiencing that, the knowledge that somebody had seen something in her, taken her in out of awe, were fading.

The trees bent back as birds cawed an soared off in a hurry, cawing in a matter of urgency.

She snapped out of her pity party and back to the present moment

She rose to her feet in an instant, the sickening feeling blossomed once more.

A crack of a branch plummeted her stomach, along with the residing boom before her.

She sank back into the tree.

Her lungs caved, betraying any possibilities of drawing a breath.

There before her, in the clearing towering just over the tree tops, stood a Giant.

I feel like I've consumed all the borrower and fearplay/angst gt there is because I can never find any new stuff anymore. I've checked here, Ao3, wattpad, deviant art but I run empty or just the same stuff each time. If anyone has any recommendations please share them!

Whenever I see the Stanley Parable Narrator being depicted as a giant or at least having some sort of drastic size difference to Stanley it makes my g/t heart so happy istg.

Been experimenting with more lighting stuff, just hope I'm doing it right because this took actual hours. I'm really happy with it so I think it was worth the risks.

Also you get height difference because that makes everything better. :3

I'm still working on Of Sinners and saints and will be making another part/ more parts for it. But I had an idea for a story and it got me in the mood for writing.

Trigger warnings!: c*tting, violence, child abuse, cursing.

The story will tone down alot more as it is found family trope a few parts I post here and there will be dark but I will always specify which ones <3

The winner takes it all

It was a kill or be killed world.

Or at last it had been.

The only way to make it in society now was to be chosen. And the only way to be chosen to outperform everyone else.

The rest of humanity seemed to live in poverty, amongst the slimes and slums of the Decker. Famine spewed and violence cried. Murders, thievery, kidnapping, and the rest all the same. The very dregs of society. Looked down on with disdain from the wealthy upper class.

Or as everyone else knew them from down in the Decker, the Giants.

But amongst the dark civilisation of the underground world lay a small spark to any family that had been fortunate enough to bare a child.

A ticket to glory. A ticket to freedom.

A ticket to a new life.

Any child of the age 13 was eligible to compete.

Children of any age or gender all put to the test in a deep carefully carved and extreme competition.

Most died. Those that didn’t however stood a chance at being ‘selected’

These trials showed off each and every child, as Giants watched on with keen interest.

If a Giant selected a child, not only would they be brought into a new life of luxury but their families too.

That chosen child would then be trained by the Giant and pushed into as many competitions as said Giant saw fit.

The brutal competition didn’t have to much rules to it, but out of the few that it obtained one stood out amongst the rest.

A child could only enter once. Should they fail, there is no second chance.

Yes many died. But not just at the peril of the competition, no, the losers where what brought a large death toll, as they would most likely be killed at the hands of their own parents.

Some out of anger. Most without a choice. It cost a good sum to live under a roof in the Decker, disgrace as it was, and with poverty growing most could barely afford a house for themselves, never mind a child.

Children did not know happiness in this world. They were merely tickets to a new one.

A ticket or not, Eleanor Tarabel would give everything to win.

That she was sure of.

—

The bell tower of the undercity chimed it’s song a painful six times. And from her perch in her small window, Eleanor watched the Decker slowly wake up.

Daylight lamps replaced those of the ‘Night’ fabricating a sun cycle for the dwelling underground.

Windows opened, people left their houses, merchants barked from their stalls proclaiming their valuables. Lines for rations began to brew.

Beggars curled amongst the streets arose, cup in hand prepared for another day. Noise grew, chatter, splashes of water being throw from windows down to the drainage basins, liquids of all kinds sank down the most common and notable color being a washed crimson red.

The little girl turned from her place, hopping down into the contrasting quiet of her room.

She knew what day it was. She knew it’s importance.

She slipped into her bland day clothing and exited her room, passing a calendar of sorts marking the days according to the sun and moon's cycle.

Tuesday 24th

‘13’

Entering the corridor she collided with an unknown man, a client to be sure.

He sneered down at her

“Keep your child on a short leash, Mags.” He said, pushing past the small girl sending her into the wall.

Her mother, Margaret Tarabel, came out to sulk by her bedroom door, sending creaks and moans through the cracked wall, hair in tangles with her usual cigarette in hand, draped in a robe of sorts.

In a husky voice and a drag, she puffed smoke out into the child’s face the smell of nicotine protruding the air, she spoke in a slow chastising tone

“Honey,” she coughed violently, small specks of blood dribbled at her lip “what did I say about irritating clients?”

Eleanor dipped her head and posture

“forgive me sir”

The man didn’t dignify her with a response, simply huffing and tying his shoes, grabbing his coat and reaching for the handle

Her mother livened up, if you could even call it that, her dark eyes laden with coat over coat of seeping makeup creeped to life.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving Mags. I have a job, more honorable than your shameful business”

Margaret did take kindly to his reply and in a hoarse snap she replied storming over, grabbing him by the shoulders

“Not without my money”

With a snort “for that service? That’s the worst I’ve had by far. But hey, you’ll only need to pay for one person under your roof pretty soon, ain’t that right cupcake?”

He gave an ugly wink in Eleanors direction

“Fuck you, you slimy rodent! Out of my house now.”

The man was pushed out into the streets as he spat and walked away.

“Rich coming from you, slut.”

Throwing her cigarette which only fell sadly to the floor dissipating in the drain she slammed the door and turned to her daughter.

“Don’t you mind him. Soon we’ll be comfortable out of this city. Isn’t that right my sweet?”

Eleanor was not in any means a stupid girl. It was clear to her that the only reason her mother truly cared- if you could call this caring- was for her own skin.

But if Eleanor won, she would never have to see her mother or any of her rotten clients again, never have to bare the butt of another cigarette, or random outburst or pour another pissy excuse for whiskey.

She hated her life. But she hated her mother more.

“Excuse me mother. I need to get to the arena.”

Her mother sighed and moved out of her way “maybe those Giants can teach you a little respect too.”

—

Sliding through the alleys, she made her way through the training grounds, careful to blend in, if she was quick enough she would avoid-

With a sharp kick Eleanor collided with the cobblestone, her rags soaking up the drainages contents leaving an unpleasant smell.

“Going somewhere El?”

She gagged at the smell turning to the voice.

Rodney Sterling. Katherina Vice. Desmond Fitzgerald. Lavender Maxwell.

Lavender stood over her with a snide smirk. As Katherine and Rodney pulled her up.

Lavender pulled out something brown from her pocket.

With a flick a blade came out.

Eleanors eyes widened. Lavender sensed this

“real silver would you believe it? Daddy had it made for me for next Saturday. But I figured, with that being so to long of a wait I’d test it out on my favourite little rodent.”

Eleanor gasped springing to life with immediate struggle, stepping harshly on Rodneys new shoes and punching Katherine earning an outcry from the two, racing past as quick as she could only for Lavender to grab her by the jacket sending a swift punch to her nose.

She giggled, twisting her blade, slicing her blade across Eleanors left arm.

Maxwell admired her work and Margaret’s scabbing circles that burned into her skin. “I see Mommy’s latest addiction is suiting you well, or was this from one of her fuck buddies?”

Rodney and Katherine gave a slithery snicker,

“See you at the Training grounds, if you even make it that far”

Lavender turned away, her clique in tow. Desmond drifted behind, eyes offering a speck of sympathy, turning back to his group and hurrying after them.

Eleanor sniffled, and gripped her arm closely. The dirty sewage had had seeped into her wound and she cried softly holding it close.

Drying her eyes she caught sight of the crowds forming by a nearby banner

‘NAMES AND REGISTRATION- THE SELECTING TRIALS. SATURDAY 5th’

She could do this. She had to

Hey so I'm Grace! I'm not new to tumblr but this is my first time posting. My exams just ended in school so I was thinking of starting to publish G/t again. I used to publish on wattpad but..eh, it isn't really for me anymore. I figured I was done with g/t all together for a while but I found out I can never really escape it. Besides that though, I have a few story ideas that I'd like to work on so when I eventually get around to posting expect G/t obviously and a lot of A N G S T!

I know all I have done since I posted stories here is write a chapter/2 chapters and not continue, I will continue them I promise but I really wanted to write this as I am a slave to the found family trope. Enjoy grumpy old man (unwillingly) becomes guardian to a chaotic little girl. Inspired by Tlou Ellie and Joel as well as GoT the hound and arya.

Thorn in my side

(Prologue)

The actual story will be MUCH longer but this is just a lil intro

Triggers: cursing I guess? But that will be the case with most chapters because addie knows some colourful words and likes to throw them around

>:)

If anything could be said without any argument it would be that the man wasn't what one would call welcoming. While he hadn't got much nice virtues in his favour, he had got a colourful array of other descriptive words to choose from. Brutish, nasty, bitter, ill-tempered (-short tempered too) and those were just starter options to a more deliciously verbal main course.

From what could be gathered while sneaking around the alleys, some villagers deemed he wasn't all bad, even vowed that 'so long as you leave him alone, don't talk to him, look at him and depending the day, you don't breathe insufficiently around him, you'll be fine'. That advice seemed to have spread like a wildfire, and slowly but surely, it appeared as if an unavowed agreement was set to leave him be to his indulgences, far out in his small cottage home at the edge of the kingdom.

Despite it all, he didn't pay their mindless gossip any attention- if anything it seemed he reveled in it, loving that it ensured the most loud and obnoxious 'citizens' would stay far far away from his vicinity. And should they get too close, the simple solution was one hard glare over the shoulder from his peripheral to send them running back home- some in tears. Some might say he was a bit of an 'old prune' or 'sad sour vessel of a man'. A man filled with nothing but grotesque hatred for anything and anyone around him, be it the townspeople, village or the whole damn kingdom.

And unfortunately, the old man didn't do the rotten rumours any favours. He never cared for the unbidden pesky pokes and prods at his life, and had he cared, he may have even humoured their outlandish claims.

Though all that being said he wasn't devoid of finding solitude. It was quite clear he did like quiet things. Being devoid from sounds of sappy children and stumbling drunkards eased such simplicite interests. The only sounds he seemed to find solace in was the buzz and hums of wildlife while tending his crops, the pitter-patter of rain hopping about like grasshoppers against the stone wall and the crackle from the hearth as its warmth billowed about his only comfort, his home.

He didn't confide and he didn't care, he was just a isolated gruff man who seemed alot deeper than the wretched rumours had precieved. From any other perspective however, it could fairly be assumed that his heart had been thorn out many moons ago, or perhaps buried, deep deep down, into depths of tarnished emotions.

It was too bad Addie couldn't aid him in his predicament.

From afar she could pity the man, and she'd only been there a fortnight thus far, from what she gathered he just needed..something, maybe a hound, hounds couldn't talk as far as she knew. Though perhaps a lazy one, that wouldn't bark at the slightest jitter.

It was clear from her restless week long trail through the kingdom that his behaviour towards townsfolk and himself personally were two different matters entirely- from what she picked up from gossip of course. He had been in the markets that day, and from the coverage scrouing the grimy streets from the plants, drains, carriages and the sort, all she could gather was the pitiful whispers about town, that 'the old troll had left his cave'.

It was abundantly obviously to even the thickest of minds this man's home was void of any life besides his own. That had been good enough for her. Despite hiding for dear life from all those around her, it had been a rare occasion were she had been happy to be around someone of such..stature. A ticket to an easy few weeks, unbothered by children, maids or fiendish cats. But still, from her time 'spent with him' (if you could even call it that) she had become divided in her own mind. Part of her found sorrow in seeing him all alone, even a little anger towards all the dreadful hushed chatter she overheard before she had happened upon his satchel, slipping inside unbeknownst to the gruff old man, in his pursuit of purchasing..whatever it was he was buying. Another part of her played offence, accusatory in the nature that he had formed the reputation himself, had he shown even the inching of a smile maybe, just maybe, his situation wouldn't be so dire. But he dug his grave and now he had to lie with his misery and consequence. And that made sympathy a rather hard feeling to render him by.

Either side of her inner turmoil could agree on one thing when it come down to it. Lest he change his ways there was no saving him.

Once she was stocked up she'd be moving on, she was quite conflicted on wether she'd feel relief or regret on leaving such a sad husk of a man, but there was nothing to be done. Nothing she could- would do. Especially given that even with her conflicted pity, he was still one of them- hatred toward others like him or not.

If it came to priorities she was putting herself first. It was a dangerous world for those one twelfth of the average height. Even more so when said people were believed to be a dying species. And were a rarity for two gruelling reasons- both stemming from blood. Its taste, and its qualities. Humans in these times were sought out now for a palatable delicacy or for cures, tinctures that could cure even the deadliest of diseases- or so the presumptuous prodigious pricks had persuaded one another into believing. Either way, the thought made her sick. All that loss, to satisfy the mind, or the stomach. But this was life now, and she was determined to live it. Endure and survive it.

Alas, she hadn't planned to stay long. A few weeks at most, with a week spent grafting the streets and fourteen nights in his abode it summed to three tiresome weeks thus far. It was stock up and carry on. Take what you can, leave what you must. There was codes to follow, they had been set out by her family, and in the time she got to have with them, each member followed them wholeheartedly. Her dad had been to teach her. God she missed him. His absence had hit the hardest. Despite the years that had past, his loss was still so vivid. In the waking world and dream realm alike. Her mother was a sweet traditional lady, well kept, strict but tender, loving to all those around her. But her father, he had shown her everything, taught her everything. He crafted the person she had become and he was partly her biggest motivation to keep going.

In theory, being reunited with her family wouldn't take long. All she'd really have to do was let a single giant see her. In whatever morbid twisted fate she’d be granted, it would eventually lead home. Home to the warmth of her mother's embrace, the lingering whispers of love and meaning in her fathers voice. Home as both held her tight and never let go. Despite its gruesome reality, it was a nice dream- but her families memory was worth more than ending up as a garnish on a plate, a plate already full of greed and an unquenchable thirst for more and more. For them, she'd keep going. For them she would reach the haven. Be amongst her people once more, bring normality back into the world, despite being born into the current way of life for humanity. To her in a way everyday had become the status quo. But the faith of getting to experience what life had been. Now that would be something.

So she would deal with this grouch for another few weeks or so, then continue her journey. Her long long journey, to salvation.

At least. That's what she hoped would happen. That was the plan after all.

Getting caught was not.