Valen | The Lighthouse Duet (recondeur) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-09-28 23:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~~kvothe (the_bloodless), ~~valen (recondeur) |
Who: Valen & Open
What: Dumpster diving, other things.
Where: Madison city proper.
When: Morning
Warnings | Status: Mentions of abuse | in progress
Since his recent run-in with Maximus, Valen had avoided contact with just about everyone who might know his name or his face. It wasn't out of shame as much as self preservation and a completely rational need to keep his secrets as close to himself as he could. He'd exposed more to Cuthbert in a single conversation than he'd said to anyone in twelve years, and it had been the most uncomfortable conversation he'd ever had. It didn't lift his burdens or help him feel better about his choices, but renewed the bitterness and utter hatred he felt for the family that bred and scorned him for his existence. Then he'd learned of his fate, being sold to the Bastard of Evanore - Osriel. It had taken some time to calm the panic he'd felt as he'd fled into the woods, worrying about what would become of him in a future that seemed suddenly too close. And all the while hating Max's complete amusement at the whole thing. His laughter had followed Valen for miles.
They all knew Claudio de Cartamandua despised Valen to his very bones, there was a never doubt in anyone's mind of the fact. Years of savage beatings, verbal jabs and threats had made it clear to the entire family. Indeed, they'd all more or less reflected that hatred themselves. It wasn't beyond Claudio to see his son sold off for good, in a contract that would end Valen's life one way or another and cease making him Claudio's problem. It was Valen that had a hard time stomaching the issue, and felt ill for days when he'd discovered it. He'd not even come to collect the meals Molly had been leaving, so sick was he as to want to avoid eating entirely.
But eventually he'd recovered. There was naught to be done about such choices until they were made, and for now he was safe within the confining cages of this damnable conjuring. That in mind he'd finally found it within his power to enter the city again. It wasn't with the full bluster of a man who knew his place, but with the cautious approach of a man trying to keep his head down and undiscovered. He had no money--having outright refused giving into any sort of Registry--but hadn't yet reduced himself to begging. Rather, he sifted through the trash bins once he'd learned what they were, and was once again spending his morning collecting items worth value to a man who had nothing left in the world.
"Holy Mother," he intoned lowly, pulling half scraps of fruit from the bin and putting it into his rucksack. "Three years' civil war would never see such waste. Who are you all so damnably able to throw away food that's fine for eating by any half decent ass?" he asked the air, and replaced the lid before moving onto the next bin.