Hello, everyone. I have two versions of the same story here, and I'd really like to get some feedback. Thanks a lot!
This is the second piece, Fogge Night.
[/FONT]Fognight said:[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]The city of Karskjorle was old, older than Nankarze itself, its jagged skyline poking up out of the rocky, crack-littered terrain around the ancient city. Thick, almost-corporeal fog clung like scum on the water to the spires and towers, bathing the city in eldritch foglight. None but criminals and the homeless walked Karskjorle's narrow, dirty streets on a fognight; anyone with sense and a survival instinct had sequestered themselves inside away from the pervasive and dangerous fog.[/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]Undeterred, Hatwyn Gladier, commonly known as Mad Hat, walked the streets alone, fog-drunk and unfeeling, her long, tattered coat pulled by ethereal currents. The ends of her long, greasy hair waved slowly, pushed and pulled by the fog's strange, unfathomable currents. A pair of dead, soulless eyes peered out from under the rim of a ragged, dirty hat perched atop her head.[/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]She passed by a group of fogsick orphans, cold and shivering, at the side of the road. She didn't stop to check on the child whose arm she broke as she stepped on it, her thick, heavy boots crushing the young, malnourished bones. Its companions converged on the body, stripping it of any valuable items before scattering to the winds, teetering with the tell-tale gait of a fogsick orphan. [/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]She strode through Karskjorle's dirty and rubbish-strewn streets until she reached a shabby, crooked house in a street full of abandoned and run-down buildings. She pushed open the door and walked inside the house. The thick fog diffused in slowly behind her, filling the damp, stale-smelling room with foglight.[/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]After a minute or so of staring blankly at the wall, Mad Hat shut the door behind her and staggered further into the house's small room. Broken furniture littered the room, and a pair of tattered curtains fluttered at the window. Mad Hat drew the fogblinds, cutting off the room's only source of odd light, and stumbled further into the room.[/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]A crack in the wall allowed fog in, fog that swarmed around Mad Hat and swirled and danced around her long, spindly fingers. It followed her as if it were a lovesick puppy, dancing with and pulling at her hair.[/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]Mad Hat fell against a cracked, dusty wall and slid to the floor. She'd bothered a host of spiders' webs, and the spiders rushed out to repair them, clambering all over Mad Hat's prone frame. A hoarse, weak voice called out from beyond the room's only door, but she ignored it.[/FONT]
[FONT=Liberation Serif, serif]Her head lolled against the wall, her eyes only half-opened, and she stared at the spiders rebuilding their webs. She lazily lifted a hand to her face, and scratched it with her long, dirty nails. She laughed as the fog swirled around her, dancing and playing with her hair and clothes, until her vision disappeared and the world went black.
This is the second piece, Fogge Night.
Fogge Night said:The jagged Karskjorle skyline was shrouded in the thick, almost-corporeal fogge that permeated all of Nankarze. It clung to the buildings like scum on the water, the air thick with the eldritch glow of the foggelight.
The narrow, dirty streets of Karskjorle during the Fogge Nights were home to none but the dregs of society: criminals, orphans and Hattwyn Gladier, more commonly known as Mad Hat.
She strode past a gang of shivering, fogge-drunk children, her long, scruffy coat pulled and tugged by the ethereal fogge currents. Her limp, stringy hair was similarly moved, and her dead, near-soulless eyes peered out from beneath the rim of her hat.
“Move,” she said, slowly dragging her gaze to the children, her voice flat and emotionless. The more conscious children dragged the others out of the way, and Mad Hat stormed past them, barely registering when her boots crushed a child's hand.
She crossed the road and sidled up to a crooked, run-down house and fumbled for the doorknob. Using the eerie yellow-green foggelight to aid her, she found it and slipped inside the house.
It was a complete mess inside, with broken furniture strewn across the room and the foul, pervasive odour of piss met her nostrils instantly. She peered into the room and, gingerly, she reached for the fogge-blinds and pulled them away from the window with long, spindly fingers. Through the broken window panes the fogge oozed in slowly, lending the room its strange foggelight.
She lingered for a moment, her fingers tracing the broken glass, fogge caressing her hands lovingly, until she snapped to attention, her eyes locked on the next room. She stumbled forward mindlessly, the fogge following along after her like a lovesick puppy.
“That you, Hatty?” came a hoarse voice from beyond the doorframe. Mad Hat ignored it, preferring instead to veer off into the hallway to peer at cobwebs. She leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor, the palm of one hand pressed flat against her cheek. The fogge danced around her head lazily, and her eyes followed it.
After a while she lost consciousness.