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It took the man nearly two days to wake up and another week before he began talking to us, the sun had done its damage to the both of them and even though we tried our hardest to help he seemed to get worse with attitude. The lady was nice though. Her name was Sydney and she always spoke sincerely and respectably. One day I even heard her say “Yes sir” to me; it made me feel old yet kind of appreciated.
She made the male look horrible, how nice she was compared to how rude and pig-headed he was. He cussed at us, never ate with us, never cleaned or worked, never talked directly to us. He behaved as if he had saved our lives, not just mine, but all of us and expected us to serve him. Except the girl, he would barely even look wrong at her, he would tell her stuff that would upset us but she brushed most of it off like he was speaking another language and sometimes even got mad at him for saying it in the first place.
Something about that male really made me mad; at first I thought it was just me but as soon as I began watching people’s expressions as he talked to them I noticed traces of anger swept through their eyes, their lips twitch as they fought back an urge to yell at him and even Doc looked some place between puking and punching him square in the face.
How could this man be so ignorant? We feed him, cloth him, protect him and even I, single handedly (might I add), saved his life to get no greater thanks than being treated like dirt. I remember I made Doc, Dopey and Grumpy sit him down and talk to him. I had tried but as soon as he began on my intelligence I walked away and I was told later on that Grumpy followed closely behind me after a “Sarcastic” joke about his mom made him crack. This made him even crankier than his usual self.
Doc was chuckling and giggling(when Doc starts laughing you know it’s either to lighten the mood or something was beyond funny: the mans expression perhaps) saying Sydney came in, sat down, got a few words in and didn’t bother lifting a finger in his defense, even yelled at him a little bit. The verdict was behave or be banished. We didn’t like it much and never really used it but it was time.
. . .
Sydney said we had to get the information we wanted directly from the man instead of going to her, we understood of course, we should show him a little more respect than having him answer all of Sydney’s questions when they are really ours. When we finally sat him down and began questioning him, all he said was his name was Tristan. Which I knew was a lie; there was only one Tristan I’d ever known; The Prince of the City engulfed by walls, my brother. No one else was allowed his name as well as no one else was allowed my name; Vincent Devouire.
Yes we were brothers, but I had no ties with my family. My father gave his life for me to protect me from my own family. Our family was nothing but a bunch of rich, filthy, swine who would give up their right arm to live one more day.
We come from a family of royals. I would be King of the City of lies but I’m a Spirit. Tristan would be the King if it weren’t for the over-throw of the government led by The Stalker when Spirits came to flourish. Ever since then we have been in what my “nonbiological” family calls “The age of Spirit” we were the Royal Devouire’s.
No one here knew my background. I kept it to myself because I was a little angry with what my family had done. Every family member but my father turned their backs on me, rather a death than a disgrace. He is the only reason I’m here today, alive and I don’t think I should mention to everyone that I’m a reason this living outside the city walls is mostly my fault.