Stitches

Stiches story starts many decades before he or even his parents were born. A man down on his luck, no place to turn. The Gentry seemed to take pity on him, or so it seemed in his eyes, gave him all the good luck he'd need for the rest of his life. The only catch, a child born on a certain day from his bloodline would be taken by this Gentry for his own on the childs fourth birthday. The man not planning to have children and thinking he could beat the Gentry agreed.       It is unfortunate that his luck would not always be so good, he got a woman pregnant, either through stupidity or carelessness it was soon to be that his bloodline would continue. He thought he'd escaped when the child was born on a different day and he'd not have to give up the child, though unwanted as he was by himself.       As generations passed the story was lost and forgotten and no ill seemed to come to the family, well more than normal for the eras. Untill it a boy born Fransesco Aquino. The unlucky child stolen away as he slept soundly in his cot the day of his fourth birthday, a fetch left in his place. His parents blissfully unaware of their childs kidnapping.       His time in Fae was filled with experiments of this doctor of Gentries, barely remembered agonies and stitches and scars criss-crossing his body as he aged in that realm, sometimes he was allowed off the bench, to help his keeper with others. Eventually a chance emerged to escape, his keeper offered him a way home, in exchange for his help in collecting more humans for his experiments. Numb to everything but the daily pain he'd been put through for these past 16 years he accepted willingly and was lead out to his room. Not a second had passed in this realm yet he'd aged so much. His fetch, still a four year old child slept soundly as he once had all those years ago and yet nothing had changed. He went to reach for the child, to break it's neck to destroy this imposter but as he touched the child it awoke and the sounds of footsteps could be heard approaching. He fled, through the window and onto the street in nothing but the clothes he'd had in fae, still caked in blood.       He meant to do as his keeper had bid him, hunting to the best of his meager abilities, it came through practice his ability to lie and lull others into a false sense of security, he felt nothing for what he did for those long months.Things changed when his keeper picked out another target for him, a young child barely a few years old. Stitches stood above the child, tears running down his face as a sense of rememberance kicked in for all that he had lost. He ran, hid as far away as he could evading his keeper for sometime, until he found a group of others like him, his motley, this is where his story starts afresh.