Untitled Project - Prologue

This is the prologue for my latest project. I'm really excited about it and would love any suggestions for improvement! If you want to read more, I'll put up the next chapter!

-Rosie


It was a nondescript structure. Passerby scarcely noticed it when plodding to and fro from their places of employment; in fact, had anyone asked them if they were familiar with it, they would've responded by staring blankly out into space for a few moments before their eyes filled with recognition and they answered,

"Ah, yes, the old Dalerty Place? Hasn't been anything for years, has it? It's vacant now, isn't it?"

They would've been wrong. Had they taken the time to look, they would've discovered a tiny name plate next to the door that read "Roughwin Children's Home,"  but they never took the time. Perhaps that was part of the problem, but to discuss that is an entirely different issue and better suited for a separate book.

Inside Dalerty - even though that wasn't the orphanage's proper name, everyone but the management called it that - roughly fifty children ranging from the ages of ten to eighteen years old resided. The benevolent but busy owners of the place, the Roughwin Sisters, rarely visited, for although their humanitarian efforts were admirable, the affluent duo scarcely had the time to visit the places they'd established and spent much of their time aspiring to erect more establishments like Dalerty.

The residents of Dalerty were, as a rule, troubled children. Collectively, the children had little chance of adoption; Dalerty was essentially a place for them to reach an age where they would be able to take care of themselves. It was a place for children who were nearly unadoptable. Some of the younger children still fantasized about the prospect of a family, but the older ones, a rough and tumble group of creatures, knew better. They were hardened by life, and knew that the chances of finding a family were close to none; besides, the vast majority of them had already endured hardships that discouraged trust in anyone but themselves.

Therefore, it was a very approriate place for Darian Felicio to call his home.

Just over the age of seventeen and with a light sprinkling of stubble on his rakish jaw, Darian was the roughest of the rough. Since his first day at Dalerty, he'd been accepted as the "ruler" of the "Dalerty lot", which was what the local politicians called the inhabitants of the Roughwin Home. He'd won both the respect of the rugged and the admiration of the weak when he'd thrashed a brawny teenage boy for bullying a flighty young girl; ever since, he'd been a highly revered member of the Dalerty lot.

But beneath his coarse exterior, Darian Felicio was much different than what his appearance suggested.