Naeva Blackstone

(The Underground - Naeve)

The air was wet and muggy and very noticeable that it was well below the water table. The condensation seeped through the purple and black walls of the cave and clung to any nearby rock or plant. There was a breath of fog and musk through the air and dust particles transcended down onto the wet rocks. Massive boulders were tossed on both sides of the cave, leaving room for a clear pathway down to the city. Stalactites dripped and brought humongous music to the cave. The only available light through the darkness were luminous fungi and various mushrooms and plants, along with some crystals further down, hummed with energy and light. The types of vegetation seeped with ooze and broadcasted the light to the endless tunnels of the underground society. The tunnels were carved in high arches and rugged pathways that would trip anyone that did not know the land. Through the stone, tree roots took place as home as well and tangled in the arches. The areas where the roots emerged cracked the stone, but the strength of the rock held it together.

Lothbrok walked at a steady pace, with his heavy boots clunking the black ground beneath him. His brown bear hide cloak dragged across the wet ground and his iron armor reflected any light from it. His tunic was green with various golden tribal designs interwoven through stretches and patchwork.

He was tall, muscular, and rugged looking. Everything about him was old except his eyes, which were sky blue. It was said that it was an omen for someone leading the underground folk to have eyes the color of the sky. His nose was probably broken more than once and fairly large, and his lips were covered by his long-whitish yellow tethered beard that was tied in braids at various places. His forehead was lined with wrinkles and the bags under his eyes were purple. His hair was long and straight and white and his eyebrows were thick and matched his beard in color, which gave him limited expression. His face was tattooed with black tribal designs on his forehead, cheeks, and chin.

As he reached the end of the never-ending path leading to his town, he was greeted by a large-iron door that was almost 50 feet tall. To the right, was a guard station carved out of the stone in the walls, which was lit up by a large mushroom on top of it. Cold drops of water tinged the top of his musky hair ever so often.Lothbrok, stood there firmly, placing all his weight on his staff. He gave a gentle smirk to the guard, which was hard to see through his thick beard. The guard quickly started to open the gate, trying not to dishonor his leader.

The earth rumbled and any unloose rubble shivered as the massive doors began to open toward Lothbrok. He knew where to stand, and the doors grazed the tip of his nose as they opened. Inside, Stonemass was a site to see. The eternal city below the world, carved from the stones of the cave. Thousands of miles below the gigantic doors, and a thousand steps to walk to the wonder below.

The minimal light that entered, was mostly cast by shadows. The shade of the city was dim-lit, dark, cold, and damp. The buildings were all the same tint of dark purples and blues, which matched the walls of the cave in which they were carved from.

A thousand steps that transcended from the door to the city were uneven and dangerous. The sides of the stairs were large boulders and fire posts all the way down to keep the path lit. One slip due to a moist environment would result in an insult death, but if a man from Stonemass could not walk on stone, his fate should nor more than death.

Lothbrok made his way down the god-forsaken staircase confidently without any trouble. Each clunk of his hard boots echoed down and around the entire arena. He quite enjoyed making an entrance to his stone kingdom.

***

By the fall of evening, a calmness settled over the lake. No one disturbed the water. Its still, glassy surface reflected the sun’s receding rays from the cracks in the top of the cave and the homes that line the shore. At the lake’s beach, where Lothbrok, his daughter, family and friends had gathered earlier in the day, someone had tossed white flowers in the lake. It was a day of mourning for the town and as well as a day of remembrance.

It was Naeva's birthday, as well as her mother's death. That is what she was always known for, and mocked for throughout her entire life. Her father's love was unconditional, of course, but she knew any sense of anger came from the fact she killed her mother during childbirth. That is where she got her nickname, "Iron Biter". Where her mother bit the leather and iron belt strap so hard that it broke her teeth. Her birthday was always overshadowed by this gruesome reminder. The town always gathered around the lake that was in the middle of the town.

The lake stretched for miles in diameter and had wooden docks around each corner end. Her father and herself kneeled on the black sand leading to the bay of Dark Water Lake. Together, they placed the sacrificed rabbits in the water, which floated in tiny boats with flowers and dried mushrooms. With a gentle push, the small boats drifted and rocked gently by the waves of the lake. On her knees bowed, Naeva looked up from her furrowed brow.

She would've been beautiful if it was not for her demented spirit. Evil filled her face and was limited to only a couple of manners of sternness and hatred. Her hair was bone-colored with gold undertones hair that were unkept and shaved on one side. It was knotted in dreads and braids that sometimes were hidden in the mess. Her eyes were coal black and seemed too close together for comfort. She wore thick charcoal eyeliner around them. Her skin was the color of crushed pearls and her thin eyebrows seemed to hardly exist with the contrast. Her lips were puckered with a scowl, which made her already have lines around them at only twenty-four. Her face was noticeably too skinny and looked as if someone draped hide too tightly over a skull.

Naeva was filled with more hatred than anyone could imagine. Her entire life was cast by a shadow of killing the queen, her mother. She wish she could bring the b back, to slice her throat in front of everyone. It would show she would do it again if given the chance. She was crueler than her father tenfold but decides to limit only herself to this knowledge. She enjoyed gutting animals and tormenting children.

An arrow struck the two little boats and they were set ablaze. She shifted her weight upright and stood tall. Her body was average and carried muscle tone. She trained regularly with anyone she decided was worthy that day, despite of whether they agreed to it or not. She wore thick gray fur boots, black pants, and a gray leather tunic with black sleeves. Her sword hung at her side. She turned to her father, who dried his tears with his straw-like beard. He looked at her, and his eyes drifted past her slowly. They were filled with sadness and drooped into a stare past anyone's gaze.

Naeva was bored to tears and turned toward the crowd behind her and saw her cousin, Coralie standing among everyone else. The black figures were shadowed by her fire hair and bright green clothing. She made her way over, the wet black sand beneath her feet ground as she walked. Coralie was one of the only people Naeva cared for, and one of the only people that actually talked to her. The people around Coralie back away as Naeva's presence become closer. She grabbed Coralie by the left shoulder and slapped her in a firm hug. She pulled Coralie away and looked at her in her hands, her grip was tight on both Coralie's delicate arms, which would turn into bruises eventually.

Naeva's face twisted into a tormented smile of brief happiness. The sound of the lake swashing back and forth was in the distance, along with people turning to return to their homes from the memorial service.

"Cousin! Another day to remember the b, and another to remember to fucking drink til we piss! Let us celebrate. This f day is my day, and I want to f decide what to do. My s father will probably cry himself into a stroke if we sing enough sad songs." her deep voice rang.

She shook Coralie with strength and let go in a snap from her grasp, which would knock anyone else down, but Coralie was more agile than the others.

(Coralie)

The underground had always been engulfed in a chilling blackness. Without light there was no warmth; only an eerie chill that continuously hung in the air as all stayed in a somber-lit atmosphere. However, this night in particular felt a little warmer. The candles of the past shined a little brighter for the queen's memorial; providing a warmth that rarely made itself present. Coralie secretly liked this day for that reason. The smell of rotting rabbit carcass, however, she could do without. Light from nearby candles accentuated Coralie's hair making it closely resemble fire. The hues within the waves of her hair bounced off of the damp and clammy mildew-covered walls of the underground. She couldn't keep herself incognito even if she tried because of how much she often stood out.

Across from Coralie was her cousin, Naeva, looking overwhelmingly bored. Naeva looked over in her direction, distracted by Coralie's hair no doubt, and shot her a deviant smile. Her words from earlier still rung in Coralie's ears; "This fucking day is my day, and I want to fucking decide what to do." I guess that means we'll be drinking until we piss. However, Coralie knew that it wouldn't be too many drinks long before Naeva would pass out. She was a lightweight after all. How ironic to think that Naeva was a lightweight at anything. Coralie however, had been preconditioned to tolerate drinking thanks to her Uncle who started her alcohol tolerance young.

Naeva wasn't alone in feeling bored at the memorial. Coralie felt remorse for Naeva's dead mother, however, after having to attend the memorial service every year, the remorse grew old. She would much rather be drinking until she had to piss. Luckily, the service seemed to look as if it were coming to an end. Naeva didn't waste any time getting up and leaving. She quickly walked over; each step still as powerful and menacing as the permanent scowl on her face. She grabbed Coralie's right shoulder firmly with the same deviant smile.

"Let's get f huh? Drinks on me Corey!" she said as she gave Coralie's shoulder a firm shake. Guiding her by the shoulder, they walked to the local bar.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? You've got the tactics council meeting tomorrow morning. We all know how a night of your drinking ends up." Coralie warned her. She can't say she didn't.

"Don't f patronize me Corey." Naeva tried to sound annoyed. Coralie was her voice of reason. But that didn't mean that Naeva would usually listen, regardless of whether Coralie was right; which was all of the time. "It's my fucking birthday for hell's sake!"

The underground city had been in a civilized state of turmoil and chaos. The occasional street fights, followed by drunken mishaps were an indication that it was probably nighttime. There was no way to tell what time of day it was, especially since they had never seen the sun set or rise.

The bar was crowded as usual. Smoke curled and twisted in the gloom from every corner forming one massive smoke cloud that hovered close to the ceiling of the bar. The sound of multiple conversations became conjoined chatter that filled Coralie's ears like a buzzing symphony. Naeva exploded her way through the crowd of people to get to the bar. She smashed her fist onto the walnut wood counter, demanding the attention of the bartender.

"Get me four rye whiskies! And whatever the redhead wants!" She yelled followed by a cackle.

"Seriously Naev, you should take it easy." Coralie tried once more. Naeva looked at her for a moment. Her face relaxed from her demented smile.

"Fine Corey. I'll take it easy." She said as she looked away. Coralie didn't believe her. She had that twang in her voice that meant she'd rather not listen. She can't say I didn't warn her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~