Thief and Postman
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,430
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,430
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, fictional, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited
Thief and Postman
The plan was perfect to the most minute detail.
It was perfect... until that guy trampled all over it.
From his corner, White glared at the guy who captured him. The bastard was covered from head to toe in a cloak that fell raggedly just above his ankles. The tips of dusty military boots peeked out from under the cloth everytime the cloak fluttered. A deep hood of the same material as the cloak swallowed the stranger's whole head. A gas mask covered what should have been the Postman's face.
A Postman, he never thought that their mark was actually a Postman.
And that was where White's whole plan unraveled.
The road to Coralie goes through some of the most dangerous parts of Eden. It was literally littered with traps, unnamed monsters and bandits. Most of all, there were bandits.
Bandits, raiders, murderers and thieves thrive in Eden. Civilization fell, so did law and order. There was no-one to punish them, no-one to send them off to prisons. Plus, there wasn't much one can do to survive, other than to steal and to kill.
3 or more bandit groups might survive on territory outskirts, hundreds more scattered all over Eden. But it was those that hunkered near the towns that got rich from banditing. And they did it by being ruthless and intelligent. In isolated areas or in small colonies, you might get away with a stupid operation such as run and gun, with territories, it was slightly different.
Guile, information, and a good plan.
The key to a successful raid were these three. And White's setup was flawless. It would have earned them food for three months if everything had gone smoothly.
But who'd have thought that instead of a merchant walking into their trap, a Postman would instead trample it.
It was a good day, with the sun shining brightly from its lofty perch, and the wind blowing the cool sea wind through the trees.
White was sprawled across the road, head turned away from Eden as he gazed sleepily at the seascape.
A high-pitched whistle was the signal and White instantly relaxed into a near-death state. With his head laid on the ground, he could hear the approaching thumps and scuffles of their mark. He groaned convincingly once the mark was close enough. From this angle, he couldn't possibly see who or what their soon-to-be victim looked like, but White knew that the guy wouldn't be able to resist.
White was after all, a rarity.
He was a young boy of maybe 14 to 16, with hair darker than a raven's wing and skin that remained as translucent as a pearl despite the heat of the sun on a beach. He was relatively unmarred and the clothes he wore showed off his perfectness.
The feet stopped moving and the mark towered over him, hesitating. And then the man bent to gather White into his arms. The boy remained boneless, eyes closed as, breathing, labored. But he could feel the scratchy texture of the man's cloak as he let himself be picked up from the ground. The mark merely stood with White in his arms as the boy waited for the inevitable.
Dante or Rigis, whoever had won the coin flip, will break through the shadows almost like a cat, arm out with knife equipped. They'd sink the blade straight through the mark's side like butter and proceed to rob the man of his belongings. And later, they'll feast on their prize, the mark left by the roadside to die.
"Your friends are smart, little one."
White blinked in alarm at the deep voice that was laced with amusement. His grey gaze was instantly riveted on the leather, metal and glass that covered the mark's face. The thief took in the twin green glowing tubes that was attached to mask, the large dark green glass that served as eyeholes, the wisps of brown hair peeking above the mask and under the deep hood. His body grew cold and rigid as though he was being tied in chains and collared. He realized why no-one from the group had attacked .
"They knew to avoid a Postman."
Postman!
"Unfortunately... no-one seemed to have remembered you."
And this time, White was sure that the cool metal slipping over his throat was no psychological specter of his.
||||||Prol||||||
I am in no way abandoning my first story "The Post". As you might have noticed by now, this is in conjunction to the first story. There'll be a third one joining these two, and the stories will be moving in a concentric spiral until we arrive at the finale.
I do appreciate my readers and their reviews. Reviews is to me, as diesel is to a car.
In Eden, I can do little yet so much.
It was perfect... until that guy trampled all over it.
From his corner, White glared at the guy who captured him. The bastard was covered from head to toe in a cloak that fell raggedly just above his ankles. The tips of dusty military boots peeked out from under the cloth everytime the cloak fluttered. A deep hood of the same material as the cloak swallowed the stranger's whole head. A gas mask covered what should have been the Postman's face.
A Postman, he never thought that their mark was actually a Postman.
And that was where White's whole plan unraveled.
The road to Coralie goes through some of the most dangerous parts of Eden. It was literally littered with traps, unnamed monsters and bandits. Most of all, there were bandits.
Bandits, raiders, murderers and thieves thrive in Eden. Civilization fell, so did law and order. There was no-one to punish them, no-one to send them off to prisons. Plus, there wasn't much one can do to survive, other than to steal and to kill.
3 or more bandit groups might survive on territory outskirts, hundreds more scattered all over Eden. But it was those that hunkered near the towns that got rich from banditing. And they did it by being ruthless and intelligent. In isolated areas or in small colonies, you might get away with a stupid operation such as run and gun, with territories, it was slightly different.
Guile, information, and a good plan.
The key to a successful raid were these three. And White's setup was flawless. It would have earned them food for three months if everything had gone smoothly.
But who'd have thought that instead of a merchant walking into their trap, a Postman would instead trample it.
It was a good day, with the sun shining brightly from its lofty perch, and the wind blowing the cool sea wind through the trees.
White was sprawled across the road, head turned away from Eden as he gazed sleepily at the seascape.
A high-pitched whistle was the signal and White instantly relaxed into a near-death state. With his head laid on the ground, he could hear the approaching thumps and scuffles of their mark. He groaned convincingly once the mark was close enough. From this angle, he couldn't possibly see who or what their soon-to-be victim looked like, but White knew that the guy wouldn't be able to resist.
White was after all, a rarity.
He was a young boy of maybe 14 to 16, with hair darker than a raven's wing and skin that remained as translucent as a pearl despite the heat of the sun on a beach. He was relatively unmarred and the clothes he wore showed off his perfectness.
The feet stopped moving and the mark towered over him, hesitating. And then the man bent to gather White into his arms. The boy remained boneless, eyes closed as, breathing, labored. But he could feel the scratchy texture of the man's cloak as he let himself be picked up from the ground. The mark merely stood with White in his arms as the boy waited for the inevitable.
Dante or Rigis, whoever had won the coin flip, will break through the shadows almost like a cat, arm out with knife equipped. They'd sink the blade straight through the mark's side like butter and proceed to rob the man of his belongings. And later, they'll feast on their prize, the mark left by the roadside to die.
"Your friends are smart, little one."
White blinked in alarm at the deep voice that was laced with amusement. His grey gaze was instantly riveted on the leather, metal and glass that covered the mark's face. The thief took in the twin green glowing tubes that was attached to mask, the large dark green glass that served as eyeholes, the wisps of brown hair peeking above the mask and under the deep hood. His body grew cold and rigid as though he was being tied in chains and collared. He realized why no-one from the group had attacked .
"They knew to avoid a Postman."
Postman!
"Unfortunately... no-one seemed to have remembered you."
And this time, White was sure that the cool metal slipping over his throat was no psychological specter of his.
||||||Prol||||||
I am in no way abandoning my first story "The Post". As you might have noticed by now, this is in conjunction to the first story. There'll be a third one joining these two, and the stories will be moving in a concentric spiral until we arrive at the finale.
I do appreciate my readers and their reviews. Reviews is to me, as diesel is to a car.
In Eden, I can do little yet so much.