[It's a crash that wakes her up. She's young, maybe only around 7 years old, and she's in bed -- a lumpy mattress stuffed with straw and covered in threadbare sheets. It's dark, still night, and she can't see anything amiss (though it'd be hard to tell if there was, it's a rundown one-room space cluttered with boxes and what looks like metal parts, doubling as a home and some sort of machine shop).
She looks across to where the other mattress is -- a boy, older than her, with the same almost platinum blond hair is asleep, his soft breathing the only audible sound this time of night.
"Matty. . .?" she whispers, and then tries again –– "Matty!"
The boy doesn't stir, and there's a crash again, sounding like it came from somewhere just outside. She deliberates a moment, then decides that she's old enough to be tough and crawls out from under her sheets, pausing to get a metal pipe that she wields as if it's a bat before continuing. She opens the rickety door out onto the street, wincing as it squeaks on its hinges -- first looking around the road to make sure no one out there heard, then glancing back at the boy in the bed.
He mumbles and rolls over, but doesn't wake. So she heads out -- it's some sort of shantytown area, cobblestone streets that are a little less than clean and lined with buildings in various states of disrepair. There's an alleyway just to her left, and that's where she heads, pipe hefted over her shoulder.
She pauses at the corner of the building, takes a big breath, and then steps into the alley. It's hard to make anything out with the piles of refuse and the movements might be rats, but she doesn't let that stop her -- she points her pipe and in the biggest voice she can muster, says, "I know you're there! Come out, burglar, n'I'll pummel ya!"
Only, you know, her voice wavers and she sounds more like a scared little girl. But maybe the pipe will make up for that?
There’s silence, and she thinks maybe whoever it was is gone, or it was her imagination — but then there’s another scuffing sound, and puffing her cheeks and steeling her courage she proceeds into the alley towards where she thought she heard the sound. She creeps forward, tense, and reaches forward to move aside a piece of debris––
Then there’s a flash of something white, a snap of teeth, and Moxie stumbles back with a startled and pained yelp, clutching at her arm. There’s a spot of blood, not too bad, but she’s little and scared and still tears up, retreating further up the alley.
It’s when she sees what snapped at her — a little white fox, with two tails and a wisp of faerie fire curling about its small body. She’s so startled, she forgets her fright and the sting of the bite for a moment to blurt:
“––A Huli jing?!”
She stares, shocked — she’s always known that there was another world that existed alongside hers, it’s common knowledge, after all. But it was incredibly rare to see one… and this one was small. A baby, really. And her curiosity starts to overcome her nerves, and she feels a little bad, because –– where is its mother?
After a moment of debate, she sets aside the pipe, and creeps a little closer, holding out her hand.
“. . .Hey. I ain’t gonna hurtcha.”
He hisses at her, but she’s undeterred, and kneels where she is, exhibiting a patience that’s frankly unusual for her.
“Yer hungry, yeah? We got some vits inside, I think. Lots ‘o Nan’s stew tonight, I was gonna save it for snack tomorrow, but ya can have it.”
With her persistence, and the mention of food, the boy shifts from aggression to wary curiosity, sniffing at her. He eventually cautiously comes out and takes her offered hand.
Moxie leads him inside to get him some of the strew — cold, unfortunately, but still hearty. She’ll have to figure out how to explain this to Matter in the morning.
Offscreen 2
She looks across to where the other mattress is -- a boy, older than her, with the same almost platinum blond hair is asleep, his soft breathing the only audible sound this time of night.
"Matty. . .?" she whispers, and then tries again –– "Matty!"
The boy doesn't stir, and there's a crash again, sounding like it came from somewhere just outside. She deliberates a moment, then decides that she's old enough to be tough and crawls out from under her sheets, pausing to get a metal pipe that she wields as if it's a bat before continuing. She opens the rickety door out onto the street, wincing as it squeaks on its hinges -- first looking around the road to make sure no one out there heard, then glancing back at the boy in the bed.
He mumbles and rolls over, but doesn't wake. So she heads out -- it's some sort of shantytown area, cobblestone streets that are a little less than clean and lined with buildings in various states of disrepair. There's an alleyway just to her left, and that's where she heads, pipe hefted over her shoulder.
She pauses at the corner of the building, takes a big breath, and then steps into the alley. It's hard to make anything out with the piles of refuse and the movements might be rats, but she doesn't let that stop her -- she points her pipe and in the biggest voice she can muster, says, "I know you're there! Come out, burglar, n'I'll pummel ya!"
Only, you know, her voice wavers and she sounds more like a scared little girl. But maybe the pipe will make up for that?
There’s silence, and she thinks maybe whoever it was is gone, or it was her imagination — but then there’s another scuffing sound, and puffing her cheeks and steeling her courage she proceeds into the alley towards where she thought she heard the sound. She creeps forward, tense, and reaches forward to move aside a piece of debris––
Then there’s a flash of something white, a snap of teeth, and Moxie stumbles back with a startled and pained yelp, clutching at her arm. There’s a spot of blood, not too bad, but she’s little and scared and still tears up, retreating further up the alley.
It’s when she sees what snapped at her — a little white fox, with two tails and a wisp of faerie fire curling about its small body. She’s so startled, she forgets her fright and the sting of the bite for a moment to blurt:
“––A Huli jing?!”
She stares, shocked — she’s always known that there was another world that existed alongside hers, it’s common knowledge, after all. But it was incredibly rare to see one… and this one was small. A baby, really. And her curiosity starts to overcome her nerves, and she feels a little bad, because –– where is its mother?
After a moment of debate, she sets aside the pipe, and creeps a little closer, holding out her hand.
“. . .Hey. I ain’t gonna hurtcha.”
He hisses at her, but she’s undeterred, and kneels where she is, exhibiting a patience that’s frankly unusual for her.
“Yer hungry, yeah? We got some vits inside, I think. Lots ‘o Nan’s stew tonight, I was gonna save it for snack tomorrow, but ya can have it.”
With her persistence, and the mention of food, the boy shifts from aggression to wary curiosity, sniffing at her. He eventually cautiously comes out and takes her offered hand.
Moxie leads him inside to get him some of the strew — cold, unfortunately, but still hearty. She’ll have to figure out how to explain this to Matter in the morning.