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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Oct 20, 2013 19:02:21 GMT -6
Wick wandered about the grounds with his ears twitching. There had to be a way out of here right? The young mouse was in the orchard, picking up apples that had fallen and were good. The youngest remembered when he could run around here and have fun. Now it was just work. A few apple trees had survived the battle, not many but a few. Most likely under ten or seven. Wick honestly hadn't been counting them.
A basket laid on the ground next to him as he picked up a red apple and brushed it off. It looked like a good one. No holes nor soft spots. All in all, a good looking apple. He placed the apple in the basket and gripped the handle of it. So he could carry it to another spot to look around.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 21, 2013 19:42:42 GMT -6
Fog had, for the first time this year, rolled into Mossflower. And it had done so with a vengeance--Redwall was wreathed in gray, the spires of the abbey building almost fading from view in the mist. It only enhanced the chill the autumn breezes had brought to Mossflower--a chill that had already been unpleasant for Brush. After all, he'd come from Southsward, renowned as the land of near-constant warmth. This cold was miserable.
Not that he was going to complain. There were far greater problems at Redwall than his personal comfort, and it wasn't like he could do much about it, anyway. He was just relieved that he'd managed to keep his cloak; that, however, he kept stashed away during the daytime. These days, it was serving solely as a blanket for whenever the soldiers let their new slaves rest in the cellars that had become their makeshift prison. Brush only wished he'd been able to stash his sword, as well--but the invaders had made quite sure to take that away from him.
He'd just have to take it back when the opportunity arose.
But for now, Brush had an entirely different task at paw. With the harvest having been interrupted by conquest, the slaves were being put to work collecting whatever crops were still intact. Brush, being relatively strong, was hauling an old cart around the grounds, filling it with baskets full of whatever had been harvested and carting it back to the abbey building for storage. Pulling the wagon by himself was strenuous work, and the squirrel was getting worn out. But as usual, he remained tight-lipped, unwilling to let the occupiers be satisfied by his exhaustion.
As he wheeled the cart into the orchard, Brush glanced around in quiet wistfulness. He'd liked the area, the groves of bountiful trees forming a relatively serene place to work or relax when the sun was out. Now, scorched and gloomy, the orchard had quite the opposite effect. Stony silence was hardly comforting. Brush raised an eyebrow when he saw only a single, young mouse working in the area. He supposed it was typical that the guards would be so disorganized as to only assign one slave--and a child, at that--to harvest the apples.
"I'm here to collect any baskets you've filled," he said wearily as he approached the mouse. A quick glance at the basket grasped in Wick's paw, however, told Brush all he needed to know. "Though I guess you haven't exactly 'filled' anything, yet."
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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Oct 21, 2013 19:50:40 GMT -6
Wick's ears twitched to a voice. At first he thought it was a soldier or a guard. But it was quickly revealed to be a fellow. The young mouse looked up at Bush and his ears twitched.
"There's hardly anything good to fill the basket with." Wick answered as he lifted the basket up off of the ground. "A lot of the apples aren't good. Bruised too badly or they have holes in em."
The cold of winter coming was noticeable by all creatures. Thankfully, Wick was still able to wear the green robe of Redwall Abbey before it was taken over. A change in clothing was never ordered, so the young mouse wore it. Though, he had considered to just stop wearing the shoes. They weren't doing him any good.
"Who are you?" Wick asked, he didn't recognize the squirrel.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 21, 2013 20:18:36 GMT -6
"There's hardly anything good to fill the basket with. A lot of the apples aren't good. Bruised too badly or they have holes in em."
Brush looked around the orchard, noting that the mouse was right; most of the apples that had fallen were in sorry condition. Had the Redwallers been able to care for them uninterrupted, the situation might have been different. But things were what they were, and so most of the fruit on the ground were unfit for consumption. Of course, there were more appealing apples in the branches above them, but who could really expect a young mouse to reach them without help?
"Who are you?"
"My name's Brush," the squirrel responded without taking his eyes off the trees. He supposed it wasn't all that surprising that the mouse didn't know who he was; he hadn't exactly been throwing his title around during his time at Redwall, preferring not to attract attention for it (especially once the vermin had arrived, who would no doubt take advantage of the situation). Giving the mouse a rueful look, he added, "Too bad we couldn't have met under better circumstances."
Seeing as his new acquaintance would obviously not be able to collect enough apples to satisfy the horde by himself, Brush set down the cart's handles and began collecting himself, picking directly from the tree instead of scouring the ground. "What's your name?" he asked as he worked.
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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Oct 21, 2013 20:25:48 GMT -6
Well, it seemed that he could actually talk to someone for a change. Everyone was too busy having their heads hung low and their shoulders hunched to talk. His siblings would talk to him but they would quickly silence him. Wick nodded his head to Bush's statement about meeting. Yes. It would've been nice to have meet under better circumstances.
"My name's Wick Asthedayturns." Wick responded, quite the mouthful of a last name he had. "I go by Wick though."
The young mouse went over to a tree near Bush so they could keep talking. Looking around on the ground, he bent down and picked up a apple. It was bruised. In fact a large section of the left side of it was. No good. He tossed it aside and picked up another one.
"Where are you from?" Wick asked as he brushed the apple off that he currently held.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 21, 2013 21:01:08 GMT -6
"My name's Wick Asthedayturns. I go by Wick though."
Brush couldn't help but smile at the cumbersome surname, and more particularly at Wick's quick reassurance that he wouldn't have to use it himself. "Wick, then," he replied, his voice tinged with amusement. The smile faded a bit, though, as he looked the mouse up and down. Even through his somewhat baggy habit, the youngster was obviously a little less than well-fed. He clearly hadn't been at Redwall very long. It was a pity that both of them had arrived so shortly before things took a dark turn.
As he returned his attention to apple-picking, Brush mused that his being captured might not have been entirely bad. After all, while he in no way enjoyed being a slave, at least his presence here allowed him to help the others in whatever way he could. If Wick didn't have any parents (Redwall did seem to attract a disproportionate number of orphans), then the squirrel-prince assumed it was his duty to help protect him...even if that made notions of escape twice as hard.
"Where are you from?"
The question interrupted Brush's thoughts, and he glanced down at Wick. "Southsward. Have you heard of it?" He knew that once, countless seasons before, a few Redwallers had come to his own homeland while it was in need. But that had been in the distant past, history that was all but forgotten by most. If only he could get a message to his people, then perhaps they could repay the favor they'd owed Redwall all those years.
Perhaps he should have told the others he was a prince, after all; at least then they'd be able to tell his family themselves.
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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Oct 21, 2013 21:07:32 GMT -6
Wick smiled when Bush replied, seeming to agree on his name. His last name was rather odd. Sounded like something a mouse wouldn't have. Sounded more like...a snake from legend. What was that snake's name that was part of the tapestry? Eh it didn't matter anyway at the current time, all Wick knew was that snake was long dead.
Although, his thoughts were turned to Bush's answer as to where he came from. Southsward? Wick's ears twitched and he cocked his head a bit as he thought it over. Had he heard of it? Eventually he shook his head.
"No. But maybe big sisters would." Wick answered as he rose to his paws.
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Post by Tirael on Oct 21, 2013 21:50:15 GMT -6
"No. But maybe big sisters would."
The answer came as no shock to Brush. After all, Southsward tended to keep to itself; it was part of how the kingdom had managed to stay peaceful for so long. Even after the Bellmaker had made his home there, contact with Mossflower country had dwindled to almost nothing, limited to the occasional traveler passing through from one to the other. And a creature as young as Wick would almost certainly not have made such a long journey in his lifetime, especially if he'd already been living at Redwall.
He was, however, relieved to note that the mouse had older siblings. Brush couldn't be around every second, after all; he just hoped that these sisters were old enough to effectively help care for their brother under this new regime. Of course, he supposed that would be difficult for any of the Redwallers, age notwithstanding; they hadn't been equipped to handle war, and they certainly weren't accustomed to harsh servitude.
"Where are your sisters?" Brush asked, hoping that the answer wouldn't be as grim as he feared. He hadn't realized until now that, technically, Wick had not stated they were alive. That was one thing the squirrel would have no idea how to handle.
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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Oct 21, 2013 21:59:30 GMT -6
"Most likely the kitchen." Wick answered as his ears twitched.
He actually had many older siblings but they were all away from Redwall. It had only been two of his sisters that had brought him here due to their family being so large. In fact, his older sisters didn't even tell him about that. That his parents and even more siblings laid beyond the walls of the Abbey. Perhaps they feared that if he knew, it would make the youngest search for a way out harder.
"Do you have siblings Brush?" Wick asked. "Any parents? What are parents like?"
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Post by Tirael on Oct 25, 2013 1:44:20 GMT -6
"Most likely the kitchen."
Brush breathed a sigh of relief. So they were still around, if not with Wick at the exact moment. At least they could still be reunited at night, when the slaves were brought back to their makeshift dormitory. (And at least he had anyone to see at the end of a hard day of labor--Brush hadn't exactly gotten close with anybody in his brief tenure at Redwall, what with the invasion getting in the way of forming friendships.) Still, as much as the prince hated to think it, life under this regime was hardly stable or safe. It could easily be that Wick, his siblings, or any other one of the slaves might not make it to tomorrow.
It was, in a way, both unimaginable and relatively believable. It was unimaginable in that Brush could not fathom how anyone could see fit to inflict this kind of life on another creature. But it fell exactly into the definition of 'vermin' he'd always gleaned from stories, whether in books or from the various adults who'd had a part in raising him. And unlike many other conflicts, the squirrel didn't see any way that these particular vermin could justify their actions here.
"Do you have siblings Brush? Any parents? What are parents like?"
At first, Brush thought that Wick had simply misspoken; that he had meant to say "What are your parents like?" But after a moment, the squirrel realized that it had been no accident. The mouse meant it. The realization sent a pang of empathy through the squirrel, as well as a trickle of guilt. He had to admit, until recently, he'd led a remarkably charmed life, and yet here was a young creature who didn't even understand what it was like to have a mother and father.
"Yes, I've got two siblings, younger ones," he answered once he realized that he'd been too lost in thought to say anything for a good few seconds. "And parents...I'm not sure I can explain what parents are like," he continued, his voice tinged with sympathy. "I suppose if your sisters have been taking care of you, they're similar. Just a bit older than siblings would be."
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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Oct 25, 2013 10:06:18 GMT -6
His sisters were doing just as well as everyone else, and by just as well they were struggling along. Despite that, they made sure that they would still be there for Wick. They really did care a great deal about them. However they had secrets of their family that they just wouldn't share with the little mouse just yet.
"Where are they? Are they at home and safe?" Wick asked as his ears twitched; curiosity is a strong thing for a young mouse.
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Post by Tirael on Nov 10, 2013 19:12:44 GMT -6
"Where are they? Are they at home and safe?"
A lot safer than we are, Brush thought ruefully. And he'd be just as safe if he hadn't bothered to head out into the world and learn about it for himself. He would be lying if he said he'd never wished that he'd stayed in Southsward. After all, he had certainly never intended to end up in his current predicament--one that not only put him at risk, but prevented him from doing his duties to his own people. But he still believed he could get out of this intact and make it home, where he would inevitably take on the rule he'd been born to.
"As far as I know, yes," he answered Wick. "But I haven't seen them in quite some time." He wasn't all that worried about Southsward, particularly anyone living in Castle Floret; they had an ample guard and a well-fortified castle. But then again, the kingdom had been conquered once before--and this was now Redwall's second time falling into the clutches of its enemies. One could never be completely comfortable assuming any place was safe.
"So, what are your sisters' names?" Brush asked of the young mouse. Though he'd never met Wick before, he had met plenty of the Abbey's children before the invasion. Perhaps he knew one of the mousemaids, even if just by reputation.
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Post by Wick Asthedayturns on Nov 11, 2013 0:11:19 GMT -6
That was good right? They were safe. IT was a sad thing though that Brush hadn't seen them in a long while. The young mouse's ears lowered as he thought about being without his sisters. They were the other family he had that was alive; being told a lie about that, the rest were outside of Redwall.
"Marigold and Flower, although Flower is her nickname." Wick answered. "Sisters are named after flowers."
OOC: Treble is making Flower but she's giving her a different name, I don't know it yet.)
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