Hey! So, I've been gone for a long while, being busy with school. Now I am back though, with a story I've had for awhile, but I've rewritten the idea a few times. Hope it pleases!
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Gabrial stepped out and quickly snatched the bag of apples sitting on the vendor cart; the vendor’s head turned away. Gabrial fled quickly, lithe and unnoticeable. He did not wish to be around when the portly man discovered his apples to be missing. After a brief walk Gabrial took an apple out of the bag and started to work away at it. His black hair swayed gently as he walked, his tired green eyes darting around, making sure none of the villagers suspected anything. Everybody noticed him, but Gabrial did not notice them, or more likely, he did not want to. Gabrial continued his walk through Gypsu, taking one of the apples form the bag and taking a large bite, his first taste of fresh food in a week.
Gypsu was located in the East Province of Temporius, a small town laying away in a cranny of the Great Tayl, the World. The town was founded by a band of travelers some 200 years ago, who had stopped at the natural oasis, once located here. In the beginning, the town flourished, and became a big attraction for nobles. They would come for shows of grand splendor, the Energy of the peoples here exposed to that of the Winds, the corporeal essence of Energy, made them perform more splendidly than ever. Now though, the town was an industrial center, producing the Energy Shields used for city defense, and other than the factory, the town was still the same as it was 200 years ago, an open market, shabby and dirty, people still dressing in the old way.
Gabrial finished his apple and threw it to the ground, he looked around; people were staring at him, at his mark. They referred to it as “the mark of Devils” because of how it permeated through his eyeball, the black of the mark contrasting with the bright green of his eyes. Gabrial however, did not know why the people feared it so, it was just a mark. He dismissed it from his mind; he did not care what the wretches of this place thought of him, who they had treated as dirt, the devil orphan boy.
The hovel was an abandoned shack on the edge of town; it was just big enough for him, and his dog of course, Renair. This had been his home for almost 3 years; it had been since he was kicked out of the orphanage for almost murdering another orphan when his meal was stolen. Gabrial was fifteen now, fending for himself, making his living as a thief. He had no hopes for anything better; he felt he was stuck in Gypsu, possibly forever.
Gabrial stepped up to the door of the shack, and as he laid his hand on the knob, the town sirens started to blare. Gabrial knew what they meant; the reactor in the factory had gone critical. He opened the door and was greeted by Renair with a lick to the face.
“Not now boy!” Gabrial yelled, and pushed the dog off of him, and grabbed his few belongings. He dashed outside and called for Renair, the dog immediately at his heels. As he ran further towards the middle of the town, towards the shelter, he noticed that it had gotten darker before the sun disappeared behind the mountains. When Gabrial finally reached the shelter he stopped short, nobody had gone in, they all just stared, horrified, at the sky.
He turned his head to the sky, there, over the mountains, floated an innumerable amount of ships. They blocked out the maroon background of the sky, each one a colossus in its own. Gabrial stared with the rest, and wondered what was happening. What were these ships? Where did they come from? Why did they come?
