The Violet Elves (excerpt)

This is a very rough story I started a long time ago. I did some world-building for it, but it is all very rough. However, I would appreciate any feedback or interest given to this.

     The light is peaking over the mountain as the first sun is rising. To stay out of trouble, Violet has to get inside her house and in her bed before the second sun stretches its burning tendrils above the mountains. She has stayed out all night climbing trees to get the coveted bumbleberries. They are quite the delicacy in the village, striped with purple and yellow with spots of black dappling the fruit. The berries burst in the elves’ mouth giving an almost too sweet flavor; however, if an elf was unlucky enough to get a seed in their bumbleberry, it would have a bitter flavor. Fortunately, Violet has never tasted a bitter one.

     Bounding down the green grass hill on all fours, Violet feels the bumbleberries in her knapsack bumping against her back mercilessly. The berries stay nice and safe while Violet digs her black claws into the dirt to propel her faster.

     The first sun is a pale blue, still a young star. Being that color, it doesn’t burn Violet’s eyes much. The second sun, however, is a seething red, old and bloated. She has never witnessed the second sun without a veil protecting her eyes. Violet is afraid it will suck up her whole village one day. She is afraid for her clansmen and also herself because who isn’t afraid of dying?

     Violet eventually stops at her home, the fireplace burning bright inside. She brings herself up on her digitigrade legs and digs her claws into the ground to keep from wobbling. Violet’s mother, Austeria, is always lecturing her about how she should stop acting like such an animal. Violet simply sighs flicking her claws free of dirt.

     Violet goes to the window that leads to her room and cracks it open silently. She climbs in and lands on all fours inside, like an animal. Inside, Austeria waits patiently; Violet curses her bad luck.

     “Uh, hey Auz,” Violet says nervously. Austeria looks down on her animalistic daughter and, putting one claw to her temple, sighs.

     “Uh, please don’t do anything magicky, please?” Violet asks.

     “Get up and I’ll consider it, Violet.”

     “Okay. I’m getting up, see? I’m not an animal.”

     Austeria sighs, “One day, I know you’ll join the tribe in the forest. Those people have the same legs as you while we don’t. I know you’ll seek your own kind,” Austeria reaches out to run her blunt claws through Violet’s knotted, waist-length hair. “I’ll understand when you leave. You and your infatuation with bumbleberries,” Austeria laughs perfunctorily.

     Violet frowns at Austeria, seeing her purple body and black hands and feet, same as Violet, yet not. Tattoos dance down her shoulders onto her arms to meet her black hands; the mark of a true clansman. Her light lavender eyes are set onto a deep violet sclera while the pupil is nothing but a myth. Violet reaches out to her mother and speaks, “I will not leave. You know why I wouldn’t. And I love you and my siblings. Why would I leave?”

     Austeria smiles, “Because you are not truly one of us.”

 

     Violet strides through the awakening village with a veil covering her face to shield her eyes from the violent second sun. The plain veil starts at her hairline and gathers itself under her chin; a metal clip scrunches the veil together, and a chain runs from the clip to her pierced ear keeping everything intact. She steers herself towards the village market to set a stand for her bumbleberries. Her mother’s words haunt the back of her mind.

     Violet looks on to the other elves setting their stands and says hello to each. She is part of this clan, she thinks to herself. They all have the same purple skin and lavender eyes and black hair. The tattoos are the only differentiating factor, telling your place in the clan and your age. Violet thinks of Damien and the small red tendrils that drip from his jawline.

     Violet picks a white wooden table with matching chair. In this part of the market, a large, open tent has been erected to protect the buyers and sellers from the harsh morning light. Dropping her knapsack, Violet takes out the fist-sized bumbleberries and lays them out on her table for the day. Absorbed with her gentle handling of the bumbleberries, Violet doesn’t notice Damien sauntering closer on his normal legs.

     “Hey,” Damien remarks to a working Violet. At his voice, Violet snaps her head up. Damien stands there in tan, cloth pants; a gauzy, black blindfold to protect his eyes; and nothing else, like every man in the village.

     “How’d you know it was me?” Violet wonders enclosed in her protective veil.

     “You’re the only one crazy enough to have bumbleberries,” he smirks. Violet smirks back even though it is hidden.

     “Do I get a free berry?” Damien asks.

     “Depends,” Violet wagers, “will you take me to the docks later? Janger asked for some fish the other day.”

     “I guess, for your little brother, I can.”

     Violet smiles and places a black hand on Damien’s, squeezing it once. Damien smirks again, taking a bumbleberry and leaves saying, “I’ll be there all day.” Violet waves him off whining about other customers, so Damien laughs and dances away.

     Violet smiles again, leaning back in her chair and watching the organized chaos of the market. Elves of all hues of purple buzz around the market haggling for deals. Violet smirks knowing that there is no haggling for bumbleberries because she is the only one brave enough to venture into the forest to get them. It’s a nice profit for her and helps at home.

     “How much are these bumbleberries?” a customer asks Violet as she humbly walks up to the stand.

     “Well, since I’m the only one selling, how about five arias?”

     “What? That’s all I have,” the women scolds.

     “I guess you’re not going to have any bumbleberries then,” Violet shrugs.

     The women fumes a bit, gripping the table with her thin, sharp claws. “A deal, maybe?” the woman offers. Her eyes show nothing under her thin lace covering.

     Violet leans forward, her lilac cloth dress following, “What do you have to offer?” The woman looks around suspiciously as if she is about to share a tremendous secret. She must really enjoy bumbleberries, Violet thinks.

     “In the forest, where you found these berries no doubt, is a cave with magic. Better magic than ours and these silly arias we barter. I’ll give you a map and three arias for three bumbleberries. Deal?” the woman mutters to Violet.

     “Where’s the map?” Violet asks loudly. This woman is a bit nutty, she thinks. Digging in her bag, the woman pulls out an old map on actual paper.

     “Woah,” Violet leans forward. The woman grins smugly, knowing she has the upper hand.

     Violet then leans back in her chair and snaps, “Where’d you get this? Paper has been gone for years. Maybe it exists on the black market, but not legally.”

     The woman, Violet notices, has a crescent tattoo under her right eye, the mark of a convict. “Well, you are a convict, then,” Violet proclaims. The woman blanches, her skin turning to sickly lavender.

     “I’m still taking this map, though. For only two bumbleberries, however,” Violet finishes while holding up two fingers. The woman frowns harshly and picks up her bumbleberries slamming down three pale arias that softly glow the color of the first sun. She turns away leaving the paper map out in the open. Violet lurches forward and snatches the map, stuffing the contraband in her bag. Her alien legs jitter the rest of the morning, burning in anticipation to explore the cave and return to the forest.    

 

     Lunch time finally slugs forward, and Violet is twenty arias richer. She gathers her remaining bumbleberries, only three left, and dashes to the docks ready to tell Damien about the paper map and possible adventure.

     Violet peers through her gossamer veil and watches the other men cast their lines. They lift their fishing poles gently and then cast them out with a fury that causes their muscles to tense and mouths to crease. Violet walks past many fishermen until she sees Damien hunched with his chin on his hand. The red markings on his neck swirl past his jaw line, crawl up his hairline, and creep into the shell of his ear; the tattoos show the sufferings of an orphan. His blindfold is black and long. The ends of it flutter behind him in the sea breeze.

     Violet strolls to Damien on her clicking claws and plops down beside him. As she does this, Damien’s fishing pole bobs slightly, but he is as still as a lake.

     “Damien? Are you asleep?” Violet whispers with a coy smile. The pole continues to bob.

     “Wouldn’t this be a perfect time for you to catch a fish?” Violet wonders aloud with a smirk. She stretches her head around Damien to see his empty wicker basket.

     “No repayment for that bumbleberry yet I see,” Violet pouts. Then, with an evil grin, Violet rips Damien’s fishing pole out of his hands and shoves him off the dock and into the frigid sea.

     Damien splashes into the water and resurfaces not even two seconds later with eyes screwed shut. His blindfold is gripped tightly in his fist. Violet cackles gleefully.

     “Hey Damien!” Violet calls mischievously. “I see you’ve caught no fish yet!”

     “Violet!” Damien yells irately. Violet grins like an imp.

     “Come on, Damien, can’t you take a joke?” Violet says laughingly.

     “Where’s my fishing pole?” Damien yells, eyes shut against the harsh sun.

     “Right here in my hands! Come up and get it! I’ve got something to tell you!” Violet shouts. Damien huffs and aggressively ties his sopping wet blindfold back around his eyes; he pushes his short hair off his forehead and begins to swim back to Violet. She grins again as he reaches the shore far away from her spot.

     Eventually, Damien stomps towards Violet with a frown etched into his face. His pants are soaking wet, and the drenched ends of his blindfold stick to his back. He collapses beside her, snatches back his fishing pole, and casts his line with unnecessary vigor. Violet smothers her laughter with her hand.

     “Aw, come on, don’t be too mad. I have extra bumbleberries,” Violet smiles. Damien glances at her then looks back to the sea.

     “Give me one, and I will consider an apology,” Damien states with a phantom smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Violet beams and greedily digs for a bumbleberry; however, in her haste, the paper map travels with the bumbleberry into Damien’s hand.

     Damien looks down and jerks his hand away as if Violet has burned him. Quickly, Violet snatches the map from the wind, but the bumbleberry bounces against the dock and rolls into the sea. Violet frowns knowing now she only has two bumbleberries left.

     “Violet, what are you doing with paper? Actual paper?” Damien hisses. Violet shoves the map back into her knapsack and raises her veiled eyes to his blindfolded ones. He sounds wild with panic.

     “That’s the thing I wanted to tell you,” Violet replies and relays to Damien the story about the convict woman who loves bumbleberries. Damien’s mouth creases farther and farther down as the story unfolds.

     “So, will you come with me to the cave?” Violet asks Damien. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and clasps her hands together. “Please?”

     “If I don’t, who will?” Damien sighs. “I don’t want you to go alone,” he finishes. Damien hunches again and stares at Violet blankly. He shakes his head and says, “How are we friends.” It sounds more like a statement than a question to Violet.

     Violet’s smile splits her face in half, “Lovely! We’ll go just after the second sun sets, okay?” Damien lifts his face to look at her and shrugs.

     “I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” a ghost of a smile tugs at Damien’s lips. Violet hops to a standing position and claps Damien on the shoulder.

     “Thank you!” Violet exclaims. “Have another bumbleberry,” she says and places one in his hand. The yellow stripes are broken by Damien’s long claws as she places the berry in his hands.

     As Violet jogs away, Damien shouts to her retreating figure, “What about your fish?”

     Violet smiles and calls back, “Janger can wait!”

Author's Note

I think bumbleberry is a dumb word, so I would love to change that. What do you think of the characters, and the tribe traditions? The world they live in? Also, how is the dialogue? I've been trying to work on that.