the last firstborn (ft. lisabeth godfrey)

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[attr="class","ktitle"]The Last Firstborn

[attr="class","kcontent"]The Godfather was not the first to see the request mounted to the board. Not too long ago there was another that eyed the briefing. There was no elaborate reason for her to be there. No large ambitions that would drive change to Limestone, or anywhere else in the world. Compared to the older woman, this soul that had been missed by just a few long moments had chosen to drift through town quietly.

She arrived in the town dressed in layers. Responding to the cold, she wore a series of linen, all bound together by the remains of an old coat. She was a human rolled in cloth, hoping for what little comfort she could make within the cold region.

And while she may have want for warmth she scurried through the town at a respectable pace. Sapphire-like eyes peered through a hood as she gazed upon the buildings, the people and the surroundings. Eager and knowing where they would see next, they rushed through the town until they reached the home of the many mission briefings.

Then, without a moment’s rest, those same large orbs scanned the missions offered. First they traced those that were eye-level with her. Then, with an exhaggerated gesture, she pushed down on her toes and raised her torso as if attempting to become eye level with the higher missions. Finally, she took to kneeling for the remaining missions.

It was then that her gaze became fixed. Her eyes became centered on one mission, and yet it was obvious she was not yet certain she would take it. Those eyes of her would periodically ditch the briefing in search of others. Comparing them? Searching for something similar but not exactly the same? It was not obvious was the silent woman intended to do. It was not obvious what part of the job kept her from making the decision. But after taking the time to observe all the options she finally took the plunge.

A nod was all she needed. The movement of her small round face was enough to satisfy her. Rather than ripping the mission from its spot like the next guest she would choose to keep her hands wrapped within the warm confounds of her padded outerwear. She pushed herself back up to a standing position and turned away from the mission board. But this did not mean she was planning to leave yet.

Fighting was certainly not Liz’s strong-suit. She was not a fighter. If push came to shove, she had no chance of completing the mission, let alone fulfilling her own stakes in the job. This meant that at least one other hand was required. She was patient enough to wait for another to come looking at the job.

To pass time she carried herself to a nearby bench. It would be close enough to watch the board, but also give her a spot to drop a backpack that she had been carrying with her. With difficulty, brought upon by her layered garments, she fumbled with items in the bag. Water, food, supplies, and odds and ends. She carried everything with her, but not all of it would remain. Foreseeing the opportunity to gather treasure, she made room for it by removing anything that she would not need before they received their reward.

Once that was done she sat and waited. Just as it was easy to see the next woman arrive and snatch the mission, it would be difficult to notice the red headed girl now seated with her head and body covered in layers of clothing.

Words would only escape her, and make themselves heard when the other woman had pulled free the parchment and expressed an intention to partake in the same position.

”You are going in that crypt? Please allow me to come with you.” Though she was wrapped up as she was, the sound of her voice should have been loud enough for more than the Godfather to hear. But should anyone turn to look at Liz, they would be greeted not by the young woman she was, but by the layers of clothing that covered her. Her identity would be difficult to discern, though the sound of her voice may have betrayed that anonymity.

Even so, she eagerly awaited a reply. And eagerly intended to follow whether her presence was welcome or not.

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[attr="class","kinfo"]Words: 729

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[attr="class","ktitle"]The Last Firstborn

[attr="class","kcontent"]The same last name. Godfrey. Liz should have had something to say about that. It was not as if Godfrey was a common last name. But if she was honest about it, she felt no connection to the name. Unable to remember her parents, siblings, family, anything, the name was nothing more than a label. And she could not be sure that it was an accurate label. Maybe, it was possible, that was not her name. All she had were some notes in her bag to tell her who she was. She did not know for sure

But this was not about her. It was about them. It was about the mission. There was no use dwelling on her amnesia, and no point in talking about trivial details such as the similarity in their surname. No, Liz was here with a purpose – to look for treasure. And she was search for that treasure. Wherever the treasure was. No matter how much treasure there was. Then as soon as she gathered it all she would quickly return to warmer climates.

That eagerness drove her to quick and concise answers. The longer they stood and spoke, the longer she remained wrapped uncomfortably in her clothing cocoon, and she would not have it.

”Justice, huh? Call me Liz. Easy to remember, right?” Her whole body shifted as she said this. Forgetting how clothed she was, she did not realize how strange or awkward the pose was. Her arms would cross and she had one leg in front of her. She would tilt her torso, and exhaggerate the motions. For anyone that was watching it just looked like a laundry basket that could not remain still. Ignorant to how she presented herself, she quickly moved onto the next subject.

”If you’re asking if I’ll be mowing down some baddies with a snap of a finger, I’m afraid that’s not the type of girl you’re looking at.” Her hand met her hip as she stepped forward and said this to the other woman. Finally a movement that was clear to see. But it remained awkward like the other actions due to her thick layers.

”However, I can fight if needed. This kitten has some claws you could say. But, if that’s not enough, it’s archive. I use archive. Familiar with it?” Liz posed with her arms up as if imitating the pawed arms of a small cat. It lasted just a few seconds, but it was still obvious she had no idea what others saw when they stared at her right now. Instead she was more focused on the conversation as she let her arms dropped to her sides and waited to hear if the woman would accept her companionship.

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Notes: A.J. Godfrey

[attr="class","kinfo"]Words: 402