With the sky cloaked by the night, stars shining bright and sparkling in a vast array of colours, the sunset faint as the bright light had not yet vanished from the horizon where the bright star had sunk beneath the mountains. She remembered a story that her father her told her about the sun, and how it had vanished during the dark winter, the smouldering fire put out by the wrath of the winter god. Ciaran had never thought much of the mythological stories he’d told, and as she has grown it had been illogical to her. Even now, she didn’t understand the presence of such figures as well, but she also knew it brought comfort to many.
For her, her own path was forged by what was present in her world, and what was tangible. To live and continue on, she’d learned from her companion, Karsi, how to track. She’d taught him how to leave fewer prints behind him when they needed to be evasive. Ciaran was sly, agile and nimble. She’d been an aspiring warrior as a child, but as time wore on it had been life that had taught her she was no warrior.
Her father had never understood her need to educate herself in the ways of violence, as he’d called it. Their kind were not fighters.
The outcome had been that she’d been taught, and she was capable but not strong. Her speed, her strength, were her allies and she’d needed them over the years.
Their walk along the shoreline was slow, the pace ambling. Ciaran walked in the swelling waters, enjoying the feeling of the water’s cooling touch in the heat. Karsi, while warm, did not touch the water. Not cold enough for him, Ciaran thought with a grin as she looked to her companion.
He just grumbled in response, and Ciaran laughed.
@Ipomoea <3
For her, her own path was forged by what was present in her world, and what was tangible. To live and continue on, she’d learned from her companion, Karsi, how to track. She’d taught him how to leave fewer prints behind him when they needed to be evasive. Ciaran was sly, agile and nimble. She’d been an aspiring warrior as a child, but as time wore on it had been life that had taught her she was no warrior.
Her father had never understood her need to educate herself in the ways of violence, as he’d called it. Their kind were not fighters.
The outcome had been that she’d been taught, and she was capable but not strong. Her speed, her strength, were her allies and she’d needed them over the years.
Their walk along the shoreline was slow, the pace ambling. Ciaran walked in the swelling waters, enjoying the feeling of the water’s cooling touch in the heat. Karsi, while warm, did not touch the water. Not cold enough for him, Ciaran thought with a grin as she looked to her companion.
He just grumbled in response, and Ciaran laughed.
@Ipomoea <3
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