OOC: CANONSHARE!
Jun. 30th, 2008 09:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dreamermoaSince I'm on such a Moa kick ATM (and because people keep saying they want to read the book), I thought I would share a bit of canon with you. :>
A-any typos are mine, not Chris Wooding's (He Who Is My God).
Moa and her friend and partner-in-crime, Rail, have just come home from a successful steal. Rail's found something special in their loot - something wondrous, from times long gone, that could make them rich. He has not told Moa about it yet....
Moa's room was the smallest and was piled waist-deep in soft fabrics. She literally burrowed into it at night and slept in the plush womb that she had created for herself.
Moa slept a lot. She preferred being asleep to being awake, for she always had the most vivid dreams: dreams of flying or of strange and mystical lands, dreams of adventure and romance. Inside her cocoon of blankets and furs, she could be elsewhere, and in her imagination she lived a life of wonders.
They clattered down the ladder into the main chamber, closing the hatch behind them. There they knelt on either side of a rug while Rail gently shook out the contents of his satchel.
Moa sat with her hands pressed between her knees. Rail glanced at her. Her cheek-length black hair was lank and dirty, her skin so pale that he could see the blue traceries of veins at her wrists and neck. She was wearing scuffed green pants, boots, and a long-sleeved black vest that had frayed at the hem. She looked ill.
He hoped he could score her some decent food off this haul. Maybe getting something healthy to eat instead of the tasteless gruel the Protectorate slop-houses dished up might put some colour back in her face.
"Anya-Jacana will be pleased," Moa said neutrally. She wasn't thinking about how pleased the thief-mistress would be. She was thinking about how much money there was, and how much they would be left with. It was a good amount. Not a vast amount, but if the thief-mistress was fair they could live off it for a while. That was something, at least.
Rail studied her uncertainly, thinking of the Fade-Science artifact still hidden in his pocket. Thinking whether he should tell her about it or not. Of course he would share it with her; that was never in question. It was just that if he told her about it, she would demand that they take it to Anya-Jacana. She would say that it was too risky; Anya-Jacana would know if they had cheated her. Moa would say that they shouldn't rock the boat, that the consequences could be terrible. And even if she agreed with him, she wasn't a good liar. She would give them away if she knew.
She was a dreamer, and he was a realist. He knew that they couldn't live like this forever, forced to stealk just to survive. Sooner or later, they would be caught, and either killed or taken away. That was what happened to those who broke one of the Protectorate's many laws, or who disagreed with their ideas, or who talked about the possibility of a world outside Orokos.
No. As much as he hated to do it, it was for her own good. She'd thank him for it one day. For making this decision.
A-any typos are mine, not Chris Wooding's (He Who Is My God).
Moa and her friend and partner-in-crime, Rail, have just come home from a successful steal. Rail's found something special in their loot - something wondrous, from times long gone, that could make them rich. He has not told Moa about it yet....
Moa's room was the smallest and was piled waist-deep in soft fabrics. She literally burrowed into it at night and slept in the plush womb that she had created for herself.
Moa slept a lot. She preferred being asleep to being awake, for she always had the most vivid dreams: dreams of flying or of strange and mystical lands, dreams of adventure and romance. Inside her cocoon of blankets and furs, she could be elsewhere, and in her imagination she lived a life of wonders.
They clattered down the ladder into the main chamber, closing the hatch behind them. There they knelt on either side of a rug while Rail gently shook out the contents of his satchel.
Moa sat with her hands pressed between her knees. Rail glanced at her. Her cheek-length black hair was lank and dirty, her skin so pale that he could see the blue traceries of veins at her wrists and neck. She was wearing scuffed green pants, boots, and a long-sleeved black vest that had frayed at the hem. She looked ill.
He hoped he could score her some decent food off this haul. Maybe getting something healthy to eat instead of the tasteless gruel the Protectorate slop-houses dished up might put some colour back in her face.
"Anya-Jacana will be pleased," Moa said neutrally. She wasn't thinking about how pleased the thief-mistress would be. She was thinking about how much money there was, and how much they would be left with. It was a good amount. Not a vast amount, but if the thief-mistress was fair they could live off it for a while. That was something, at least.
Rail studied her uncertainly, thinking of the Fade-Science artifact still hidden in his pocket. Thinking whether he should tell her about it or not. Of course he would share it with her; that was never in question. It was just that if he told her about it, she would demand that they take it to Anya-Jacana. She would say that it was too risky; Anya-Jacana would know if they had cheated her. Moa would say that they shouldn't rock the boat, that the consequences could be terrible. And even if she agreed with him, she wasn't a good liar. She would give them away if she knew.
She was a dreamer, and he was a realist. He knew that they couldn't live like this forever, forced to stealk just to survive. Sooner or later, they would be caught, and either killed or taken away. That was what happened to those who broke one of the Protectorate's many laws, or who disagreed with their ideas, or who talked about the possibility of a world outside Orokos.
No. As much as he hated to do it, it was for her own good. She'd thank him for it one day. For making this decision.
