My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie "Honestly, that isn't an appropriate knife for that." Quinoni straightened up from her kill. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, threatening to drip down the scraped shield of her eyepatch. Blood browned what was once silver. She looked at the ornamental blade in her hand and furrowed her brow. "It's a Phreeback dagger," was her curt reply. "It's meant for survival."And with that, she wiped its blade onto the grass and left a trail of red across the foliage. The small elk was skinned and cooked over an open flame, all carefully monitored by Barkelee, who still had not said a word since discovering Mistress Kor's body. He simply hovered over the fire, occasionally adding more fuel in the form of dry brush or small sticks. The three were now only two or so miles away from the East Barronia border. With luck, they would be back in civilization in one more day. It had been six months since they had traveled to West ...

Arvey breathed deeply and felt her body relax. In literal uncharted territory in the west, she was facing uncharted territory of her own. Her fingers stretched out for something to grab, and that something was the front of her companion's shirt. Pulling her toward her. Feeling her mouth pressed against her chapped lips. Quinoni smelled like tobacco and tasted like sweet, dried sap.

She made the trek to the top of the mountain, where the mistress's body still lay, growing ever colder. If the snow fell long enough and stayed solid for long enough, then perhaps her features would be naturally preserved. Her long hair thinning, the follicles tightening around her puckered scalp. The amber eyes still partially open. Arvey knew those eyes would lose their hue eventually, the former beauty decomposing no matter how much frost locked Kor's youth in.

"Never thought the climb would be this steep," panted Quinoni, propping herself against a rock to steady herself. She reached for her flask of water, but Arvey already beat her to it, pulling it from Quinoni's belt and unscrewing the cap. "Thanks. Very kind of you." Arvey watched as the cold water slipped into Quinoni's mouth. She reached for her hand, wanting to squeeze it so tightly that she would never be able to let go.

By the time the Council had finished speaking, Arvey could feel the bristling hairs on her neck begin to relax, settling back down against her sweat-moistened nape. Beside her, Barkelee squeezed her hand. Behind her, she could feel Quinoni's fingers massaging her shoulders. It was true that Mistress Kor, wherever she was now, would be held accountable for whatever heinous acts she committed; at least, however, the three of them had been declared innocent.

"According to these notes, four Creebacks are being held captive," Barkelee read to Arvey and Quinoni. After six days, he still was unable to walk without a cane. The journey so far had upset him greatly, leaving him not only physical injuries but also emotional ones. Arvey reached for Quinoni's hand. It was cold, yet the temperature was oddly comforting. "So what do we do?" she asked. "Simple," Quinoni replied, her one good eye narrowing. "We save 'em."

"Just a little farther," Quinoni panted, "and then we can rest." Arvey was grateful for that. They sat together under a large gnarled tree - too proud to be willow, too depressing to be oak or redwood. Quinoni opened up a canteen of something stronger than water, and Arvey drank more of it than she expected. When she passed the flask back, her knuckles brushed against Quinoni's outstretched fingers. It caused a spark somewhere deep in her stomach, something she hadn't felt since Mistress Kor disappeared.

"Don't!" Arvey screamed, grabbing Quinoni's arm. "It's just an illusion! It's not there!" Quinoni did not seem to hear her, or see her. She continued to walk toward the ever distorting, ever frightening mirage. Arvey could see it, too, all too vividly. Whatever had been slipped into their goblets was potent. All around them, people were laughing. "Qui!" Arvey shrieked.

by Belinda Roddie She woke up thinking, "I'm still here. I'm still here in this God forsaken cottage, in this God forsaken village, in the middle of God forsaken nowhere. I don't know why I am still alive, or moving forward. I don't know what the point of this entire expedition is anymore." And truth be told, she couldn't blame herself for those thoughts. With Mistress Kor gone and home being farther and farther away, everything the team had accomplished - or more significantly, hadn't accomplished - was becoming more and more vivid. They had avoided nasty confrontations with the Mischiefs, destroyed haphazardly constructed barracks, escaped being eaten by swamp monsters, climbed a mountain that had almost cost Barkelee's life, sailed a ship that had also almost cost Barkelee's life, fought off brutes that had cost Quinoni vision in her left eye, and been declared Chosen Ones by the Creeback people, just before Mistress Kor had been snatc...

It was the first time that Arvey had seen a mountainous range in nearly six months. It was not imposing to her, nor majestic. It was simply an occurrence she was not used to, and as such, she let out a small puff of air as she observed the peaks, typically dusted with snow. "Huh." Quinoni limped to her side, the scars never quite fading from her torso, hidden beneath her tunic. "What?" "I just realized," Arvey murmured, smiling faintly, "I've never climbed a mountain before."

Out of sheer desperation, Arvey tugged at the rope and watched the sail billow open like a loose flap of skin, torn and pinkish against the gray sky. Barkelee was looking worse for wear, and no matter how many bandages Mistress Kor wrapped around his abdomen, the blood never seemed to slow its journey down the legs of his breeches. Quinoni kept close to the bow of the small boat, squinting through the mist, as Arvey prayed that they would reach a calmer shore in time.

"We've got to get out of here!" Arvey moaned as she pressed herself against the locked door. "Given the shoddy architecture of this place, I'm sure the roof could collapse at any moment!" "Maybe the walls are even less sturdy," Quinoni said from the corner of their prison, a lopsided grin permeating through the smoke of her cigar. "Give me your pistol, Arv!" Arvey fumbled for her firearm and tossed it to her companion, who lobbed five shots at the wall and laughed loudly as several chunks of it fell away as a result.

"How much stereotypically rugged terrain are we going to have to trudge across before this blasted expedition is over?" growled Quinoni, brushing her too long bangs away from her eyepatch. Even two weeks after the scuffle in the tavern, her eye had not fully healed. She and Arvey were both beginning to worry that she would lose sight in that eye. Mistress Kor, for the first time, seemed distressed. "I don't know anymore, Miss Wuntyn."

Arvey straightened the bowtie beneath Barkelee's chin, unused to seeing him wear anything but tattered travelling tunics and breeches and boots with almost-holes in the soles. In fact, she was sure he was disoriented by her appearance as well. The golden gown did wonders for her lackluster figure, giving her curves she did not have and her hair a surprising sheen even in the dim light of the dressing room.

"It's entirely plausible that the Council will be uneasy about letting us leave so early," Mistress Kor murmured as she made to refill her glass. "Ever since our arrival, tensions between the factions have...loosened, to put it casually." Arvey couldn't quite understand why. A gang of travelers, bent on marking and documenting uncharted or unconquered territory, couldn't possibly have that much of an effect on such a troubled town.

It was an atrocious odor of biblical proportions, and Arvey had to hold her nose as she stepped around the bayou. The territory was nothing like the terrain the group had crossed before - while travels prior had been rattled by wind, ice, and snow, this swampland was sickeningly warm, and Barkelee was visibly perspiring. Quinoni, of course, didn't seem perturbed by the heat at all.

"They called you the Chosen One?" "Yeah." Arvey watched as Quinoni rolled her eyes, lighting up another stogie. "Why? Not exactly a label to be taken seriously?" "The Creeback people," Quinoni explained, "have selected seven Chosen Ones in the past forty years. At this rate, you're the platinum edition." "And the way they coo over you is just adorable," Barkelee added gleefully, raising a glass from where he was seated on a throne beside Mistress Kor.

by Belinda Roddie He didn't quite catch what was off about the room until he realized that all of the picture frames were turned around. Then again, even if he did turn them around, there'd be no photographs in them at all. Not that the master of the house didn't like to retain memories of his youth - but he didn't like hanging up his past for all to see. So Barkelee was more than curious about why the frames were on the wall to begin with. "They're quite lovely standing on their own," the master replied placidly, offering the youth a glass of very dark wine. "Excellently carved wood. And they were gifts. It'd be a pity to let them gather dust." Barkelee was unsure as to how empty, turned around picture frames made any of their givers happen. But given Miss Kor's warnings, he was willing to let it slide. Sir Ifolde was a staunchly middle-aged, egregiously curt man. He did not smoke, and he offered alcohol even though he hims...

by Belinda Roddie She hesitated outside the door before finally deciding to simply walk in. The winter air scuttled in with her on frosted legs, wrapping the room in an igloo cocoon, as Arvey drew her coat closer around her frame. Mistress Kor's hopes for her to become huskier and more toned muscularly had been fulfilled somewhat; the girl still needed meat on some parts of her anatomy, but she was becoming fuller with each travel, rather than thinner, against the elements and the beasts. The shoreline house that the group now settled in was owned by the Crusader, who in his retirement was more a Fisherman with a capital F (more the Fisher, in Arvey's mental notes). He was more than happy to let the bloodied Quinoni, the haggard Barkelee, and the ever undisturbed Kor into his residence to stay for a week of rest. The amount of poise and composure that the professor had collected through assumedly years of experience was not something to cluck one's tongue at. Arvey alwa...

It was considerably rough terrain, and Arvey was already beginning to feel her energy slide away from her like fat off a bone. She dropped to one knee in order to redo the laces on her right boot, the wind brushing against her hair and causing a shudder to run down from her scalp to the tail end of her back. She watched as Mistress Kor stopped a few meters ahead of her, looking over the lip of the hill.