Post by Lily-Chan on May 27, 2016 22:08:34 GMT
Shiva sat on the wooden stool, his pants bunched up on his knee as it sat on the top rung of the stool, a violin placed expertly on his chin, and his eyes were closed
The tavern went silent, and He began to play.
A calm bowing resonated through the drafty walls, before speeding up, his other foot beginning to tap a beat.
The men at the bar seemed to enjoy it, and someone ordered a new round of drinks.
" I build coffins with hammers and nails,
I don't build ships, I have no use for sails."
"-I don't make tables, dresses or chairs-"
"I can't carve a whistle because I just don't care....."
*
Shiva was seven at the time when Shiva's dad, Roger, packed up his family and horses, and announced that they would be leaving the small town where they lived at the time- and move out west, to the supposed wide and expansive plains.
He didn't want to leave his friends, but he had no say. And he couldn't help but be inspired by the grand tales Roger would tell his son while he smoked his pipe by his fire, his light peridot eyes flickering, full of humor, in the fire's light.
Tales of tamed Savages with painted faces, huge snakes, mountains taller than any man could climb, waterfalls full of endless bounds of fish that practically swam towards bait, plains where Shiva could run with his little sister.
Two years ago, Shiva, his father, and sister set out towards the great unknown.
However great the story that painted the west as a paradise was, he would have happily stayed in the boring gray town life in exchange to forget the night when the savages attacked and killed his parents and sister.
He watched his mother die in front of his eyes, and heard the screams of his sister and father.
He still remembered their crazed brown eyes and wild brown and black hair.
He remembered being crushed in the grass, clutching his father's pipe and pocketknife, and when the headdressed savage found him. Shiva brandished the knife and with a hopeless face had said "GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Back in his youth, Shiva didn't think about how weird his name was compared to the other boy's- Ronald, Thomas, Peter, Donald, George- they were all so different than his. And while the other boys were all different versions of the same blond, coarse-haired, blue eyed photocopy, Shiva had dark brown hair and green people compared to a snake's calculating ones.
He had been tormented by the rumors that his mother was a Savage, and he was a bastard child, despite him knowing both his parents. So what if his mom died before he knew her, and so what if he didn't look exactly like them?! He was still Shiva. A civilized man- definitely not a Savage.
However, his looking like one is what saved his life.
The Savage towered over him, shiny objects in his hair, an evil glint in his eye, illuminated by the light of the fire consuming his father's wagon.
He spoke words in a language he didn't know, and when the savage saw the confusion, he switched to a version of English he couldn't quite make out through the accent.
"The ancestors recognize your bravery, boy. Leave behind the invader's grip and embrace the wild and your family roots. May the wind and wolves guide you, brave son, to your true home among the great six." he said, before calling for another savage to hand him the reigns of a horse.
Despite his shock, he knew what to do- he put his father's pipe and knife in a satchel and took off into the wood.
*
"I build coffins for the rich and the poor,
Kings and Queens have all knocked at my door.
Beggars and liars, gypsies and thieves...."
*
Shiva sat under the sun, happy to be resting after countless hours of chopping wood.
Shiva was, for a lack of better words, a nomad.
Settling down know where, but known everywhere, Shiva's home was a saddle and an open sky ever since the night his dad's wagon burned what he guessed to be ten years or so.
He let out a half-laugh as he realized by now, all the little boys and girls from his old town were probably already married and hand kids, and here he was- somewhere in the new land, chopping wood and helping out a farm family.
He knew his devices were beginning to no longer be required, and he debated were to go next.
He hated to leave, but he knew it was time to go.
A shadow blocked out the sun, and the farmer's daughter brought him a glass of water, and he thanked her.
It wasn't like any one offered him opportunities to stay- permanent jobs or opportunities to marry- he couldn't settle down.
He tried, but nothing and no one could satisfy him, he just wanted the stars above him, the ground blurring beneath him, and the wind rushing in his ears.
No one knew him as Shiva anymore, he was Jack- as in Jack-Of-All-Trades, and the name was truly earned.
Fixing broken rooftops, finding a lost cow, killing a client that never gave the money they borrowed back, helping a family with a bounty they normally couldn't harvest without his help, stealing something from the supply store, transporting people from one place to another if they came to be lost.
He did anything for payment- or at least that's what he advertised. Honestly, he just wanted to make people's lives easier, since his wasn’t great.
*
"They all come to me because I am so eager to please!"
" I build coffins, I make them all day,
it's not just for work and it isn't for play....."
*
"Jack-" the girl's voice said nervously, and he sat up, and grabbed his discarded shirt before putting it back on, covering the countless scars he had gotten over the years, some from his old master, most from his days in the untamed west and odd jobs, and some had been self-inflicted, back in the rougher times.
He had heard this tone of voice from everyone. It was the ‘time for you to go' voice. He knew it well.
"It's been good knowing you, Bridget." He said, and the short girl blushed.
"You too, Jack."
"Tell your mother her bread is amazing." He said, before walking to the stables, where his horse ,Bit, stood waiting, and saddled her. "Best on this side of the Mississippi."
Her blue eyes lit up. "Truly?"
He nodded, and jumped on his horses back.
She handed him a basket full of what he assumed was bread, cheeses and preserves- all which would be pleasant on the trip- and his payment of coins.
He rode off, feeling free once again.
*
"I've made one for myself-"
"One for the girl-" Some laughing was heard.
"And one of these days,
I'll make one............for you!" Shiva howled, and the men at the bar all joined in jokingly, and his heavy eyes stared at the horsehair bow and continued bowing, building the musical bridge to the next verses, keeping the magical tune in the air.
*
Shiva sat by the river, a month later, splashing water over his face, happy for the cool chill.
As the water dripped from his short ponytail and into his eyes, he thought about he loved days like these, without any worries.
He still had bandages wrapped around his torso from getting shot in a bar fight (over a lady of course- except Shiva hasn't wanted the girl for the reasons the other man had, he was saving her from the almost inevitable rape that came to bartender girls when they were hit on) but he had nailed the bastard with just a simple pocketknife.
'Don't bring a knife to a gunfight' the saying went. Shiva could hit better with a throwing knife than a gun. The only difference was a bullet moved a lot faster than a knife.
Only proved his Savage roots further- most boys knew a gun back and forth, boasting and taunting- while Shiva struck quickly and with the intent to kill with one blow. Like the Savages, apparently.
So, he left town with a gun on his waist and 500$ a bounty on the man's head.
Life was going great. The wind showed evidence of a cold winter coming, and he should find a town selling winter items- he had long ditched his former winter clothes because they slowed him down.
He pushed those thoughts aside, and threw a hand around his horse's neck, who's black eyes looked him over uninterestedly before moving on to the water.
Shiva jumped when the sound of gunshots sounded- in the distance, but still, this was the first sign of humanity in weeks. He instantly had three sharpened nails (not nails you used to hang up a picture, or the ones you painted, but ones of glimmering metal about nine to eleven inches long, one to three inches wide- made to pierce and embed in the bone or flesh- and stay there. )
When he had money to spare, he would buy poison- or even make it himself, identifying bushes with poisonous fruit, crushing them and coating the nails in them.
Shiva heard the bushes and trees behind him rustle, and shouts and the sound of horses were heard.
Shiva ran across the river, his horse following behind him without a second thought.
A balding man in a bloody costume stumbled out, holding a bag with something sticking out of it.
Two men followed behind him, and Shiva's heart raced when three figures on horseback emerged from the clearing.
Savages.
Their hair was done up in braids, dressed in heads and feathers, wearing the skins of animals.
He hadn’t seen many this close in a long time, longer then Shiva kept track of.
Two man-Savages and a girl-Savage in her teenage years surrounded their targets.
"Give us-" a word Shiva didn't recognize "-back, or may the Wind Goddess bring havoc upon you!" The girl said, and Shiva could tell by her costume that she was high ranking- her brown hair was done into two braids, secured with abalone shells and red heads.
The man holding the bag laughed. "I don't understand Savages!" He said, and pulled out a gun, and the savages looked nervous, and their horses seemed to skid at the sight of the foreign object. "Not do I take prefers from them!"
Shiva's horse knew better than to move, and he gave her a reassuring pat, his calculating eyes never leaving the sight of the matter before him.
The man seemed to notice the shift in power, and he shot the gun at the two Men-Savages.
Hugh fell off their horses, and the horses ran to the woods, and the men let them go.
The Savage-Girl's horse only swayed. He or she was trained well. "I will not fall for your-" word he didn't know-" invader! I stand firm in the name of the Goddess of the Wind! Give the-" word he didn't know-" back, and I will spare you!"
They laughed, and seeing now that this girl was alone, begun advancing towards her.
He hated savages.
So he couldn’t fathom why he saved this one.
Shiva drew the three of his nails out of their homes in the hidden cuffs and threw them at the slowly advancing men, dropping them like flies one at a time with deadly accuracy, only a small scream -if any- and a dead body was evidence of their sick intentions a moment earlier.
*
"I build coffins, for better or worse."
"Some say it's a blessing, and some say it's a curse.........................."
*