Chapter Text
Rythian was a tall, lean man. Dark skin with brown hair, he had a natural light streak in his hair on his widow's peak. He kept his hair short, it was thick and awful to brush through when long.
He usually wore silk robes, but he hated them. He preferred comfortable long sleeved button up shirts and slacks, like he wore now. He did keep a necklace he’d been gifted, tucking it under his shirt. He took a dull colored scarf to cover his face, he had facial scars he wasn’t proud of, and people who weren’t used to him always stared and made him nervous, he’d rather hide his face than face the pitiful, or even fearful, looks he might receive due to the scars.
Rythian had packed a bag of bare essentials, a few changes of clothes, cash that he’d stolen from the woman who demanded he call “mom”, as much food as he could fit in his bag that he’d also stolen from the compounds kitchen, and the long sword that he’d grown up being trained to use.
The Sword of Destruction. He always thought it was a stupid name, but it often would cause eruptions of damage to whatever Rythian swung it at.
He snuck through the dark compound, easily avoiding the few guards still awake and patrolling. He approached the gate to the compound, there was a smaller door behind the small building that controlled the gate, used for package deliveries or guards to go out without opening the gate.
Rythian took the key ring out of his pocket and fumbled for the correct one, heart thundering in his chest so loudly he was sure if he wasn’t quick, someone would hear its beat. He found the right key and inserted it, turning to the door and pushing it open, he glanced over his shoulder. There was still no one there. He slowly creaked open the door. He stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind him, locking it.
What he did next was the hardest, but one of the most important decisions he’d made up until this point.
He ran.
He didn't stop running until his lungs burned and his legs screamed in pain and he had to stop to catch his breath. It was still days till he’d make it to the city, at least on foot. But he couldn't stop for long, maybe he couldn't keep running, but he had to move. He needed to be at least a day out from the compound. Just to be safe.
One foot in front of the other , he told himself as he moved along the road.
He knew this was the way to the city, he’d ridden along to the city down this road many times. Nobody ever came down the road besides other compound residents, why would they? It's one gravel lane to the compound and nothing else.
He hoped that no one would see him.
He prayed no one came for him.
He walked, and walked, until his feet ached and his head hurt. All through the night and the day, he refused to stop, even for water until deep into the next night. Hiding from the road down in the ditch and treeline. But just as he had thought, nobody ever came down that road. He’d not heard or seen any of the cars from the compound's direction either, maybe they hadn't noticed he’d left yet? Either way, it was only a matter of hours before they came after him. He had to get to the city, at least there he could find some different clothes, blend in for a while. He’d eventually have to find a way to get farther from them, out of the city. He needed to get as far away as possible.
Two days later, The city rose upon him magnificently on the horizon.
The skyscrapers and air crafts became visible, even as his body ached, he felt more strength to keep going, knowing he was closing in on his destination.
The noise and bustle of the outskirts of the city were even more interesting, the vehicles people rode, pumping out steam and the sound of gears chunking along, the horses pulling carts, the wildly different and unique houses, and people.
Rythian tugged on his scarf, making sure it covered his mouth and nose properly.
When he entered the deepest part of the city, he stopped at the first food stand that the smell of caught his attention to buy something to eat. He knew that it wasn’t smart to waste money like this, but he just couldn't help himself. City food was just so tempting compared to the bland meals back at the compound.
He sat on a nearby bench and slowly ate the food, savoring each bite. There were a few odd looks he got due to his scars showing, but mostly the city people ignored him.
While people watching during his meal, he noticed more and more officers around, and didn't know whether to feel safe, knowing the compound members wouldn't come after him in front of the cops, but it also made it harder for him to look for food or steal if he needed to.
He wondered what led to them being about and so alert.
He sighed and watched the sky, it was harder to see the stars in the city, he mentally noted. He'd have to find somewhere in the city streets to sleep for the night, then he’d start looking for work.