Fic: Jenka growing up in the Castle, part 1
More Jenka backstory. The Castle is such a fun place for a child! ;D
This story is going to have more parts - not sure how many yet, but #2 is almost done and I have another one half-written.
Title: Being Alive (A Good Day, part 1)
Characters: Jenka, the Castle
Warnings: ...Jenka, the Castle
Wordcount: 800
Jenka woke up. She was alive, nothing hurt, and she still looked eight, she thought matter-of-factly. Good. Sitting up on the stone floor, she stretched her arms with a fang-filled yawn and looked around the empty room, grinning with anticipation. Last night she discovered a promising way out of the Castle - if she could make it out unseen, today was going to be a big day!
There was a reason for Jenka's unusual morning checklist: she was one of the experimental group of Jager-children in the Castle. The failed experimental group. The Jager transformation turned out to have a mortality in children even higher than the adults' nine out of ten - but instead of happening immediately, their deaths were spread out over decades. A few of the children died during the transformation. Some grew to adulthood in a year, and then died. Some stayed six-year-olds for several years - and then died. The variety of aging rates was similar among the few who lived.
Jenka was one of the slow ones: actually twelve, she physically looked much younger. Mostly ignored by her creators, she managed to build herself a strange but happy childhood, slipping through the cracks of life in the fortress. She didn't know it was unusual to think you could die any day - after all, everyone could. Especially here: the Heterodynes were bloodthirsty and quite mad, and not known for trying to keep their people alive. Well-adapted to her strange environment and taking all its rules for granted, Jenka spent most of her time exploring all corners of the fortress, enjoying her games with the Jager soldiers, and just silently observing everything around her.
Well, that and being played with by the Castle. As she was running down the dark corridor with her pack and dagger, impatient to be on her way, Its voice stopped her cold. "GOOD MORNING, LITTLE JAGERKIN." Drat, she thought, trying to be as still as possible - it was going to be one of THESE days. Not that she minded, really, despite the grumpy attitude she cultivated for the Castle. Their games were fun, but this would take time! The bloody thing probably knew she was in a hurry today.
Jenka always slept in the abandoned wing, in a different spot every time - she wanted to be hard to find, in case someone wanted to measure her or poke her with needles again. But the abandoned wing was where the Castle had free reign. In the end, she always concluded It was better than the needles, but It took great pleasure in making her rethink her decision every week.
"Vot iz it today, den? Lets get it over vit!" - she growled at It, but stayed motionless, waiting to find out. She didn't have to wait long - hearing a quiet clang overhead, she threw herself to the side, barely avoiding the long metal spikes shooting out of the ceiling, rolled and immediately came back up a few feet away, ready for the Castle's next move. She took a few moments to look for a relatively safe route down the corridor. She knew the best way to do this was quietly and carefully, one step at a time... But eight-year-old or twelve-year-old, she definitely couldn't wait that long today.
She lunged across what she guessed was a floor-falling-down - "OH, YOU'RE TAKING THE FUN WAY! AND IT'S NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY!" - made it under another set of ceiling-spikes, bounced off a column to quickly change directions and avoid the crossbow bolts she heard from behind, rolled under the almost invisible wire stretched between the walls - "VERY GOOD, LITTLE JAGERKIN. MAYBE WE'LL HAVE A USE FOR YOU AFTER ALL." - and continued this way down the hall, managing to avoid a varied assortment of traps for several yards. They probably wouldn't kill her, but they hurt. A lot. Especially the acid-coated ones.
This was going surprisingly well, she thought, dropping flat under a particularly low whirling-sword-thing - a heartbeat before she heard the tell-tale clang of falling spikes. She tried to scramble up from her prone position in time to avoid them, and almost made it - she was nearly out of the danger zone when she felt one drive right through the calf of her back leg. Unable to stop the momentum of her lunge, she jerked on the trapped limb, and almost fainted from the pain. Her elbows scraped in an ungainly fall, she lay whimpering on the floor, the Castle's malicious laugh drowning out her voice. Holy Heterodyne, that hurt! Her leg felt on fire, and the smallest move caused the rough metal to scrape agonizingly through the wound.
Despite the pain, she tried her hardest to lay still and quiet - knowing the Castle, it wouldn't let go until she stopped squirming. It thought she needed toughening up.
This story is going to have more parts - not sure how many yet, but #2 is almost done and I have another one half-written.
Title: Being Alive (A Good Day, part 1)
Characters: Jenka, the Castle
Warnings: ...Jenka, the Castle
Wordcount: 800
Jenka woke up. She was alive, nothing hurt, and she still looked eight, she thought matter-of-factly. Good. Sitting up on the stone floor, she stretched her arms with a fang-filled yawn and looked around the empty room, grinning with anticipation. Last night she discovered a promising way out of the Castle - if she could make it out unseen, today was going to be a big day!
There was a reason for Jenka's unusual morning checklist: she was one of the experimental group of Jager-children in the Castle. The failed experimental group. The Jager transformation turned out to have a mortality in children even higher than the adults' nine out of ten - but instead of happening immediately, their deaths were spread out over decades. A few of the children died during the transformation. Some grew to adulthood in a year, and then died. Some stayed six-year-olds for several years - and then died. The variety of aging rates was similar among the few who lived.
Jenka was one of the slow ones: actually twelve, she physically looked much younger. Mostly ignored by her creators, she managed to build herself a strange but happy childhood, slipping through the cracks of life in the fortress. She didn't know it was unusual to think you could die any day - after all, everyone could. Especially here: the Heterodynes were bloodthirsty and quite mad, and not known for trying to keep their people alive. Well-adapted to her strange environment and taking all its rules for granted, Jenka spent most of her time exploring all corners of the fortress, enjoying her games with the Jager soldiers, and just silently observing everything around her.
Well, that and being played with by the Castle. As she was running down the dark corridor with her pack and dagger, impatient to be on her way, Its voice stopped her cold. "GOOD MORNING, LITTLE JAGERKIN." Drat, she thought, trying to be as still as possible - it was going to be one of THESE days. Not that she minded, really, despite the grumpy attitude she cultivated for the Castle. Their games were fun, but this would take time! The bloody thing probably knew she was in a hurry today.
Jenka always slept in the abandoned wing, in a different spot every time - she wanted to be hard to find, in case someone wanted to measure her or poke her with needles again. But the abandoned wing was where the Castle had free reign. In the end, she always concluded It was better than the needles, but It took great pleasure in making her rethink her decision every week.
"Vot iz it today, den? Lets get it over vit!" - she growled at It, but stayed motionless, waiting to find out. She didn't have to wait long - hearing a quiet clang overhead, she threw herself to the side, barely avoiding the long metal spikes shooting out of the ceiling, rolled and immediately came back up a few feet away, ready for the Castle's next move. She took a few moments to look for a relatively safe route down the corridor. She knew the best way to do this was quietly and carefully, one step at a time... But eight-year-old or twelve-year-old, she definitely couldn't wait that long today.
She lunged across what she guessed was a floor-falling-down - "OH, YOU'RE TAKING THE FUN WAY! AND IT'S NOT EVEN MY BIRTHDAY!" - made it under another set of ceiling-spikes, bounced off a column to quickly change directions and avoid the crossbow bolts she heard from behind, rolled under the almost invisible wire stretched between the walls - "VERY GOOD, LITTLE JAGERKIN. MAYBE WE'LL HAVE A USE FOR YOU AFTER ALL." - and continued this way down the hall, managing to avoid a varied assortment of traps for several yards. They probably wouldn't kill her, but they hurt. A lot. Especially the acid-coated ones.
This was going surprisingly well, she thought, dropping flat under a particularly low whirling-sword-thing - a heartbeat before she heard the tell-tale clang of falling spikes. She tried to scramble up from her prone position in time to avoid them, and almost made it - she was nearly out of the danger zone when she felt one drive right through the calf of her back leg. Unable to stop the momentum of her lunge, she jerked on the trapped limb, and almost fainted from the pain. Her elbows scraped in an ungainly fall, she lay whimpering on the floor, the Castle's malicious laugh drowning out her voice. Holy Heterodyne, that hurt! Her leg felt on fire, and the smallest move caused the rough metal to scrape agonizingly through the wound.
Despite the pain, she tried her hardest to lay still and quiet - knowing the Castle, it wouldn't let go until she stopped squirming. It thought she needed toughening up.