Clone: Finding an Idenity
Bundled in blankets fashioned into a makeshift cloak, wandering the streets of an unknown yet familiar city. Like the slipping feeling of a dream vanishing as you wake up. They had never been to this place before that they knew of, which wasn’t saying much since there were almost no real memories that didn’t seem like half remembered knowledge from a book. Lucky for the several layers of blankets on these cold streets as the ripped and poorly patched clothes they had managed to scrounge together were doing very little to keep out the morning chill. The foggy air made it seem to stick deeper than bone, and in general the thick dampness was uncomfortable. Flittering branches of thoughts, trashed in the sea of memories. A spell, or rather the recollection of one. Like broken pottery, random bits and pieces scattered in a shapeless pile of disjointed thought. Nothing of enough cohesion to even try to put that pottery back together, even an attempt to sound out the words to the spell could be catastrophic. Unlikely leveling the entire city. Even if they were the progenitor of this body it was unlikely they had the kind of power to do it in one go. Maybe if they had time but nothing like the arch-mages of old. Starting a fire was also not an option either. Nothing around to actually start one, it could get out of control, and smoke is hard to hide. They didn’t know much, but they did know that the guards wouldn’t take too kindly to a vagabond, clad head to toe…or shins, in stolen ragged clothes. Along with no name, and no residence, and no memory enough to sound like a sane person. Which in all honesty was debatable.
Finding a place to sit down out of the sight of anyone they held the staff they’d taken from the cave close to their eyes and tried to read the runes. The symbols seemed ready to be imbued with magic but they didn’t know how. But if things couldn’t go worse, a booming voice disrupted their concentration on the staff.
“Do not move.” the guard said, hand already on the hilt of his sword. He knew didn’t want to give a mad mage any chance to move before he could. “Citizen, what is your name?”
They looked up to the guard stunned. Having to think quickly…and they did need a name anyway. “Mee?”
“Yes you…” The guard said, squinting.
“I am Mee.” they responded.
The guard pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes…I know you are you. What is your name?”
“I am not You, I am Mee.” the mage said.
The guard stuffed down a growl of annoyance of getting the run around. Speaking slowly with a pause between each word. “I know you are you.” he left a longer moment before speaking again slowly. “I am Guardsman Henkly. What’s your name?
“It’s Mee.”
“Your…your name is Mee…” the guard said exasperated, before throwing his hands up. “You know…I don’t have time for this. I’m giving you a warning. If I catch you breaking any crimes. Even crossing the street when a cart is coming I will lock you up.” he said. “And throw away the key Mee, do you get that?”
“I’m sure you do…you are the one that said it.” Mee said.
The guard let out what could justifiably be called a howl of frustration and stormed off.
“I guess Mee works until I can come up with something better.” they thought.
They gathered up their staff and moved in the opposite direction of the guard, moving slowly. Stopping at any refuse piles they found. Looking for something specific this time. Rope, hopefully not coarse or rotten, and some wood. Barring finding a pair of thrown out shoes that are not smaller than their own feet, home made sandals were the next best thing to get their feet off the cold hard ground. They didn’t hurt yet, but it was only a matter of time before stepping on something sharp. And something like that could spell death, not like they could afford a healer, or supplies to keep a wound clean. Though…perhaps ramshackle sandals would not be good for running away, should the need arise.
But hopefully it wouldn’t come to having to run away but at this point they wouldn’t know. It wasn’t long before finding an old broken barrel, finding chunks roughly the size of their feet. Shortly after finding some old rope. Finding a point out of the way and private and fashioning the disparate litter into something close to shoes. Putting some cloth between wood and feet to avoid splinters.
They were uncomfortable, and they slapped on the bottom of their foot, and clacked on the stone road. Wanting to avoid people if possible. Unsure if bare feet were less conspicuous than ramshackle barrel sandals slapping the road making them sound like a very small pony.
They didn’t really know where they were going, just that they were going. Feet moving like they knew where to go more than their brain did. Nervously they noticed they were leading them to the center of town. What little they knew, they did know that the fancy people lived closer to the center of town. The little bit of control from the back of their mind was luckily not leading them towards the large building far to the left and on the way out of town. It looked almost like a castle but wasn’t quite one. It didn’t have the round spire bits. But the little voice was guiding me somewhere else. It was an odd feeling, one they didn’t like. Feeling like a fish hooked on a line being pulled by the whim of something above and unseen. Making it all the more clear this body didn’t and won’t ever really belong to them. Through alley ways and back streets, all the way up to a strange wall that wrapped around a hill that was where the wealthy people lived. “Looking down on the little people” as they say. Before even realizing they were doing it, ‘Mee’ knocked on the wall. As if there was a door there but that was silly. Silly until a thread of light carved a rectangle on the wall. The door slowly creeped inward…like a door. A hunched man with a giant white beard peaked his head out, then the door opened wide. The man’s face flashing with recognition, and his mouth dropped open.