Ericke and the Gypsy

Day 1.
I am tired of Prontera.
I think I should leave.
Someone is leaving.
Alone.
She is pretty.

---

Day 3.
She hasn't noticed me yet.
We have crossed through some fields near Prontera.
I think I am lost.
Better keep following her.
She is wearing some odd clothing I haven't seen before.
Might be some sort of dancer.
Heh. Dancer. Heh.
There is so much grass here.
I hate Prontera.
I like the Porings though.

---

Ericke opened his eyes, his arms and legs stiff. Wincing, he sat upright and stretched out limbs, pulling his arms straight next to his head as he yawned. A Poring bounced around restlessly next to him, glancing at the Novice every few seconds. Ericke stared back and after a few moments, the Poring stopped moving and settled into the grass with what appeared to be a sigh.

It had been several days since Ericke decided to move on. He never stayed at any town or city for more than a couple of days, a week at the very most. He was constantly restless, unsure of where he actually belonged and what his purpose in life was. He wasn't a great fighter and he had absolutely no motivation to improve, he had no friends, and his only companion was a Poring that left him often to have its own more exciting adventures. Oftentimes he found himself completely alone, left with only his notebooks and nonsensical scrawlings to amuse him. Due to his loneliness, he often followed strangers, writing reports of their daily lives since his own bored him. Sometimes he was discovered; rarely, he would be apprehended, and in his nervousness he'd always scramble away before he could be detained or recognized. Well… not that anybody would recognize him anyway.

Just the day before, he had spotted a Gypsy on her way out of the town. She was traveling alone, which was rare – most people seemed to travel in parties. Sometimes Ericke followed some of the smaller parties since he found their interactions interesting. However, the more people there were, the more likely he would be discovered. A lone traveler was almost always a better target.

He glanced over at the Gypsy, pondering her outfit. He hadn't seen a Gypsy before. She was still asleep, her light blue hair completely covering her face from where he was crouched. Sometimes he dreamed of approaching his targets. Hi, I am Ericke. I wasn't totally just following you like a stalker and taking notes about your every movement. He shook his head in frustration. No, that sounded too creepy. Why couldn't he just communicate like everyone else seemed to be able to? He'd watched friends discussing their favorite dungeons and hunting places, laughing as they joked back and forth. Why couldn't he do that? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes again. Hi, I am Ericke. What is your name? What are you doing alone? What is with your clothing? What is your job? Where are you from? How old are you? He sighed again. Now he would seem too overbearing. And eager. Which, honestly, he would be. If he had ever gotten a response in return, his excitement at any scrap of human interaction would render him completely hyper and inappropriate, or worse, catatonic.

Shrugging his shoulders, Ericke glanced at the sun rising steadily over the horizon. Why was she taking so long to wake up? The sky had already begun to grow brighter, and his back was sore from the uncomfortable ground. He glanced at the Gypsy's blankets with envy. He had been forced to camp on the damp grass, which he detested. The Gypsy had wandered off the dirt roads hours before she camped, and none of the trees could be easily climbed. He sighed, hoping that the Gypsy would start moving again soon. If he couldn't live vicariously through others, what else could he do?

---

Ericke sat near the river, his pants rolled up to his knees as he kicked his legs slowly. This was relaxing. Finally, they'd gotten further from Prontera, further from all the non-stop grassy fields and slippery trees. The Poring had disappeared a few hours ago, and he felt terribly lonely again. The Gypsy was constantly checking a device of some kind, oblivious to her surroundings. He had seen those devices before – he guessed it was some method of communication. How it worked he had no idea. It seemed to be highly distracting to the user, however. The few times she had glanced around, he needed only to duck into a bush of some kind or scramble to a low tree branch. She obviously wasn't expecting someone or looking too hard; after all, his outfit was mostly black, making it almost impossible for him to hide easily during the day and in such a bright, happy atmosphere. He hated it, and was glad she seemed to be moving away from the big city.

The Gypsy started moving again, and he slipped out of the water carefully, leaving his pants as they were until his calves dried. She was walking, her hips swaying playfully as she skipped across a few rocks to the other side of the river. Ericke followed slowly, staying quiet and close to the ground.

---

Sand.

Ericke sifted the grains through his hands, delighting in the feel of this strange new substance. He marveled at how each tiny speck would come apart in his hands, flowing through his fingers – and yet, the ground beneath him remained packed and solid.

The sun beat mercilessly down as they continued to travel. There were less places to hide, so Ericke increased the distance at which he followed his target. He swallowed, his throat dry and itchy. They had passed a few ponds out of which he could drink, but the water was sparse. The ground was hard and hot, but the Novice's feet were already so heavily calloused that it didn't bother him much. He still preferred it to the disgusting feeling of dewy grass that had constantly tickled and tormented the soles of his sore feet.

He often traveled through forests or grassy fields. Dirt, he was used to, but sand… this was still different. He wondered why he hadn't traveled this way before. He glanced at the Gypsy who had become a mere speck near the horizon. Where are you going? What is your story?

---

Day 12.
She has been seeing other people.
I don't know who they are either.
I think we are near that desert town.
I think they called it Morroc.
I like her necklace.
I want a necklace, too.
...
What is this yellow Poring?

---

Day 15.
I think I lost her.
I think these yellow Porings are Drops.
Somebody said so.
I want one of these.
I have been following a bunch of birds.
They look fun.
They won't let me ride on their backs.
I guess they don't like me.
They seem to like sword people.
Why do they like sword people?
What is wrong with me?

---

Day 23.
Okay.
I guess I am stuck in Morroc.
I found a Poring on top of this building.
Maybe it is my Poring.
Nobody lives in this building.
It is broken.
Like me.
I like it.