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Run of the Mill or Not?

Give it up for a misanthropic anti-hero of a teen protagonist who hates humanity in general. Grifton Tinroy, a draconic/humanoid hybrid as well as abandoned orphan. He's just trying to survive man, and do so in a comfortable way.

Draeme_Saekyr1 · Fantaisie
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82 Chs

58

Chapter 58

Flange Orphanage, City: Three Prongs Fork, Republic of Shantu, Continent: Barat, the Year 2023, Planet: Grimoire

Several months passed since the death of the old butler, Shamus, and later his widow passed within five hours of his death. An investigation was launched because both of them had been quite healthy and only in their mid-fifties. Therefore, it became quite obvious to everyone within the bounds of the Orphanage grounds that something nefariously insidious was happening.

Grifton turned a year old, as did his cousins, and they were discovered to be very mischievous ringleaders in all kinds of trouble. He had done his best to stay out of trouble, but Grifton soon learned that he was a magnet for being picked on because he'd gotten too big, too fast. As a result, he was able to walk and run competently, a fact he made use of when bullies tried cornering him.

The most difficult part was avoiding the bullies whenever the adults weren't around. Grifton exhaled as he sat on a bench where he knew adults were working in a nearby garden. "At least I made it over here safely." That was an achievement in and of itself. It was the first time that Grifton arrived there without bruises, much less a black eye or bloody knee.

"Oi, Griffy, what're you doing there? Shouldn't you be playing with the others?" The foreman, Denby stood off to one side, frowning in perturbation.

{Bullies pestering me again. This time from the house of Oryx. I don't know what happened to make them come after me.} Grifton shrugged. He eyed Denby with resignation, hearing the chuckles of the other men around them.

Hmm, resorted to calling him Griffy again? Must be because his hair resembled the ears of a griffin again. He rolled his eyes and mumbled. "Chased."

Because his teeth hadn't quite started growing yet, Grifton was stymied. He was having a hard time articulating words. Probably because his teeth were slow to grow in, unlike the rest of his body. It was difficult to speak as a result.

"Hmm, all right." Denby sighed. He looked around as if trying to decide what to do with Grifton's presence.

Anyone getting a good look at him would assume he was around five years of age. That was the usual point when children could begin doing chores. The fact that no one was doing that with Grifton signaled that his appearance didn't match his actual age, yet. That's when Grifton thought of something. {Director, do you have a minute?}

There was startled silence. {Tinroy, where are you?} His perturbed tone indicated that he didn't have a minute to spare.

Grifton winced slightly. Uhmm right, he was supposed to be with the other kids in that cramped space they called a playground. It was where the outsiders had cornered and tried tearing his clothes off. Additionally, they'd found time to pull his hair and put who knew what disgusting garbage in it. Wherever they were from, he wished they would go back and forget his existence.

From what Grifton recalled of the original blueprints, there should've been a playground here. Was that why he'd come there? Or did something else draw him there?

For a moment, Grifton thought he saw something different that overlaid his normal vision. Ugh, that was happening again? He shook his head, and the scene disappeared from his sight. Chills no longer ran down his spine either. Great, something must've happened here. No wonder it wasn't a playground anymore.

Right, that's why he'd come here originally, Grifton sighed. He thought this was another playground, but now it was an orchard? Confusing, but it meant he could relax comfortably here. Preferably doing something useful to help out the guys who now watched him with mild irritation. It seemed that he interrupted their work with his presence, which wasn't good.

Grifton glanced around and shifted warily from the bench he'd perched on and moved into the sunlight. {I'm currently next to the southwest plum and orange orchards. What's wrong?}

The director sighed. {Stay there and sit tight. I don't want to have to punish any more outsiders for hassling you.}

{Okay.} Grifton resumed his seat on the bench and glanced at the foreman. "I can't work yet." He shrugged. "Not old enough, but maybe can volunteer?" He hoped the foreman could understand what he was saying.

Denby cast his eyes to the sky mumbling. "Why do I have to put up with this pesky brat?" He sighed heavily.

Grifton grimaced. Suggestion spoken verbally a failure once more. He sighed and mumbled. "You're not the only one man. I don't like being a useless brat either." He really didn't enjoy being bullied or chased for that matter.

At last, he stood up. Maybe he could go somewhere else? No, if he did that, the Director would be furious. Grifton looked around with dismay. In the distance, he heard shouting and winced.

It was those outsiders again. Why wouldn't they quit messing around?

Denby frowned. "What is it, lad?" He heard the shouts and frowned with dismay.

Grifton exhaled. "Outsiders. Older kids. Brought in by visitors." He stated. "Nasty and vicious, I get the feeling they were ordered to destroy stuff on site." He shivered. "As soon as they saw me, it was as if they'd recognized prey or something. They've tried to kill me three times already, not just the typical bullying either." Atavistic fear was strangling him from speaking further.

Come to think of it, why did the Director tell him to remain in place? Well, no matter, it wasn't as if he couldn't find plenty to do right here. He looked around thoughtfully.

"Can you fill buckets with water?" Denby caught his attention.

"Yes?" Grifton blinked. "Yes, I can."

Denby sighed. "Do that until someone comes for you." He instructed.

Cool, now he would feel useful. "Okay." Grifton moved to where there was a collection of buckets.

Weird, why weren't any of them being used? Grifton inspected them and frowned. They were full of holes, what kind of joke was this? He eyed Denby. "Uh, sir?"

The man looked at him and saw his confusion.

Grifton pointed at what he'd found. "These are unusable, sir."

"To your left, boy." Denby noticed where he was standing. "You found all the ones that need repairing." He waved a hand.

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