Monday, January 18, 2016

Character Scene: The Nameless One

The Nameless One is an original character I created a few years ago or so during NaNoWriMo, and right now probably one of my favorites to work with.  The following scene is, if my memory serves me, the first scene I ever wrote with this character in her current iteration, and the basis from which her story unfolds.  Then Nameless One also makes an appearance in my upcoming novel Pirates of Otherland, amongst an ensemble of other interesting beings in the wold of Otherland.

"What's your name?"


He huffed and rolled his eyes. "You're real name."

She looked over her reading glasses at him and quirked an eyebrow, then pointed a finger at where he was resting booted feet on what had probably been a clean table. "Off."

He rolled his eyes again and made an exaggerated show of sitting in his chair properly.

"You get to clean that." She went back to reading the book in her hands, red curls hiding the side of her face like a curtain.

He shrugged.

"The Shop opens in ten minutes," she smirked. "I'd get on that if I were you."

Clay stood and hopped over the only empty portion of the cluttered counter and grabbed a rag before sauntering around to wipe down the table he realized was now covered in the mud that had caked his boots.

"Are you keeping the red today?" Clay asked, his combat uniform looking completely out of place in the homey tea shop as he wiped down furniture like a busboy. He pretended not to notice as her fingers combed wistfully through the ends of her hair and instead grabbed a broom to do a quick sweep of the floor.

"No." She did not elaborate and closed her book without marking her place. He was always amazed at how she could pick up a book and turn directly to where she had left off, no matter how long it had been or how large a tomb it was. 

The clock chimed the opening hour.  Clay carefully replaced the table and chair to where it had been before he had come in and put away the cleaning supplies. When he came back into the front her long red curls were gone, in their place a black and spiked pixie cut that looked just as striking on her as the flaming mane.  Her casual trousers and short sleeved green blouse had been replaced with a tight brown and black suit that gave her all the appearance of a Doberman, complete with boots that almost matched his.

She was scanning the shop with a critical eye and nearly missed the sad look that briefly passed over his face before being replaced with a insincere grin.

"Good morning, Gunslinger."  The Gunslinger smiled at him, a soft and understanding smile that did not match the deadly competence of her current appearance.

"I doubt my particular skill sets will be utilized fully today."  Clay's pained expression softened in response. So she wasn't going into battle, which meant the Gunslinger was needed more for her effect than her abilities.

He approached her slowly, understanding that the Gunslinger would always need to be treated with caution. She let him run his fingers run down her arms until they danced in her palms, and he let his lips rest against her forehead for only a moment before he stepped back to look in her eyes. Her expression was unfathomable. Clay went to leave but turned to face her at the door.

"One of these days I'm going to find out your name," he gave her a wicked grin and an irreverent salute before kicking the door open.

"What makes you think I even have one?" She murmured quietly. Clay was fairly certain he was not meant to hear her words so he left without pausing.  Even if she didn't believe it, he knew she had a name buried deep underneath the fathomless layers identities and titles and 'skill sets.'  He just hoped he was around when she found out what it was, that she would allow him to be a part of that particular adventure.  It would be more than a mercenary like him would ever deserve.