Nine Years before the Calamity
The rock hit her arm.
One of the better places to be hit, if one were in a mood for picking. The pain was brief, and the only memory would be a small bruise. The head was worst, a rock there would leave her head ringing, and would prevent her from reading for the remainder of recess.
Evangeline casts her eyes upwards, over the leather tome cradled in her lap. It was Flourent, again as it was almost every day. The Elezen stood, bouncing a rock in his hand, and looking as smug as a lanky ten year old boy possibly could.
"Hey smellvangeline." The boy calls out, probably thinking the comment to be the height of wit, "What are you reading about? How not to be so crazy?"
She considers her options for a moment, and as her brother and teachers suggested, decided to be 'Civil'. Evangeline clears her throat, "It is actually a book on ancient Allag, and my name is Evang..." She is interrupted as another rock sails in, hitting the book and placing a tear in the timeworn leather.
The boy laughs at her as she reacts in panic, checking the status of the book. "This... is from my uncle, very few works by this writer survive."
The boys lips turn into a cruel snarl as he tosses another rock, "Good! Mom says filth like you shouldn't even be attending this academy, let alone have something so fine." This third rock hits the pages, sliding dirt across a sheet of delicate vellum.
With a growl Evangeline drops the book and tackles the boy, his smirk turning to panic as she bites and claws at him. By the time they pull her off him, they are both covered in dirt and scratches, though only Flourent is taken to be treated in the school infirmary.
"Lady Evangeline..." A teacher scolds her with worried eyes, "You may have dropped your book, but that is no reason to attack young master Flourent."
"I... he threw rocks at me." She mumbles through a split lip and a tangle of dirt smeared hair, "He wanted to break my book." Evangeline hated how small she felt when talking to adults. It as if all her knowledge and confidence left her at the sight of a stern face.
"Lady Evangeline, even if so, you should tell one of us, you cannot keep simply assaulting those who displease you." The teacher sighs, "I shall have to tell Lady Primrose about this. Gather your things, you will be sent home for the rest of the day."
Tell a teacher? And be ostracized for tattling? Evangeline thought not, besides, there were always times when the teachers were not there. Sullenly she gathered the rest of her things from the classroom, the rest of the children watching her like one would a wild beast, as she walks past them with clothing ripped and soiled. A few of the braver ones whispered insults as she passes, low enough so the teacher could not overhear.
"Dog"
"Beast"
"Don't say that, you might get bitten as well."
"Oh... she looked at me, how scary."
Evangeline wished she had some witty thing to say, some statement of defiance to throw back in their faces. That she had strolled out with back straight and features firm. Instead she walked out, clutching her books, back bent and long hair covering her face.
Her only victory was that they did not realize she was crying.
The rock hit her arm.
One of the better places to be hit, if one were in a mood for picking. The pain was brief, and the only memory would be a small bruise. The head was worst, a rock there would leave her head ringing, and would prevent her from reading for the remainder of recess.
Evangeline casts her eyes upwards, over the leather tome cradled in her lap. It was Flourent, again as it was almost every day. The Elezen stood, bouncing a rock in his hand, and looking as smug as a lanky ten year old boy possibly could.
"Hey smellvangeline." The boy calls out, probably thinking the comment to be the height of wit, "What are you reading about? How not to be so crazy?"
She considers her options for a moment, and as her brother and teachers suggested, decided to be 'Civil'. Evangeline clears her throat, "It is actually a book on ancient Allag, and my name is Evang..." She is interrupted as another rock sails in, hitting the book and placing a tear in the timeworn leather.
The boy laughs at her as she reacts in panic, checking the status of the book. "This... is from my uncle, very few works by this writer survive."
The boys lips turn into a cruel snarl as he tosses another rock, "Good! Mom says filth like you shouldn't even be attending this academy, let alone have something so fine." This third rock hits the pages, sliding dirt across a sheet of delicate vellum.
With a growl Evangeline drops the book and tackles the boy, his smirk turning to panic as she bites and claws at him. By the time they pull her off him, they are both covered in dirt and scratches, though only Flourent is taken to be treated in the school infirmary.
"Lady Evangeline..." A teacher scolds her with worried eyes, "You may have dropped your book, but that is no reason to attack young master Flourent."
"I... he threw rocks at me." She mumbles through a split lip and a tangle of dirt smeared hair, "He wanted to break my book." Evangeline hated how small she felt when talking to adults. It as if all her knowledge and confidence left her at the sight of a stern face.
"Lady Evangeline, even if so, you should tell one of us, you cannot keep simply assaulting those who displease you." The teacher sighs, "I shall have to tell Lady Primrose about this. Gather your things, you will be sent home for the rest of the day."
Tell a teacher? And be ostracized for tattling? Evangeline thought not, besides, there were always times when the teachers were not there. Sullenly she gathered the rest of her things from the classroom, the rest of the children watching her like one would a wild beast, as she walks past them with clothing ripped and soiled. A few of the braver ones whispered insults as she passes, low enough so the teacher could not overhear.
"Dog"
"Beast"
"Don't say that, you might get bitten as well."
"Oh... she looked at me, how scary."
Evangeline wished she had some witty thing to say, some statement of defiance to throw back in their faces. That she had strolled out with back straight and features firm. Instead she walked out, clutching her books, back bent and long hair covering her face.
Her only victory was that they did not realize she was crying.
