The stars are alive, child! Did you know that? Everything out there is alive, and there are grand purpose abroad!
At times I wonder what life would have been like had I not been born so feeble. Had I been born to match my parent’s strength, my father's strong shoulders, and my mother's lithe agility. Had it been the case, I would not have had to marry Obyana, would not have handed my people over to his smoldering rule. One that lasted for only a moment, before he cast it all into ruin. And for what? His own pleasure? He never did tell us.
Perhaps it was because we had spent so long disparaging his kind. It was all we knew, all we’d been taught. My so many times great-grandfather had ingrained it into Herstials very essence, weaving our distaste into the willows themselves. Every child born under Herstials skies was told cautionary tales about magic. I sometimes hear my grandmother’s voice still, telling me all about the ways magic could sew chaos into the earth.
But had I been born strong… We could have lived in peace. I could have danced among the people, the candlelight flickering off my would-have-been rosy pelt. I could have sent my parents off properly at their funeral, raised children who would take on the role of heirs. Become a grandmother, who whispered the same tales.
These days I can’t even bear to be in the presence of candlelight. I sleep when the sun sets. I know I should cast the fear out of my heart. Winters without fire are pleasant for no one. But every time I catch a glimpse of that orange flicker… I see Herstial up in flames, and my eyes roll and my heart pounds, and I cannot escape that terror.
I think maybe… I won’t stay in dusk court. I thought here I would find happiness… fulfillment... but everything about this place is like a remnant of a past life. And it is one I want so desperately to go back to and at the same time one I cannot bear to see any longer. It is so much like home it’s almost unbearable. The temple is far from that. New and exciting and different, and perhaps there I could cut the ties of longing that have kept me tethered for so long.
Finally, I am stricken from my thoughts as my hooves meet the cobblestone of the city. It’s been over a year I’ve lived within these walls, and yet still it seems so foreign. I didn’t know us creatures were capable of making such structures. Towering buildings of stone and mortar. I wonder who built them, who came first to Novus, and decided to lay down stones in each court. Was there some great architect whose name has been lost to time? Or were the courts already established, and fighting to have the greatest city. I suppose it would be written down somewhere, but I cannot be bothered to check.
I can see a girl ahead. She seems to think she is hidden, but in the city, it is far easier to hide among crowds, than it is to stand in the shadows. The latter only makes you seem like a creep. She seems… out of it. She holds a beautiful necklace, that I can only imagine is even more impressive when the sunlight hits it. I can imagine the refractions it would cast upon the stone walls.
“Are you alright?” I ask, the words slipping from my mouth before I think to stop them. Most people here wish you to leave them be. Before I even finish the sentence I watch the girl spit onto the cobblestones.
@Maybird
Perhaps it was because we had spent so long disparaging his kind. It was all we knew, all we’d been taught. My so many times great-grandfather had ingrained it into Herstials very essence, weaving our distaste into the willows themselves. Every child born under Herstials skies was told cautionary tales about magic. I sometimes hear my grandmother’s voice still, telling me all about the ways magic could sew chaos into the earth.
But had I been born strong… We could have lived in peace. I could have danced among the people, the candlelight flickering off my would-have-been rosy pelt. I could have sent my parents off properly at their funeral, raised children who would take on the role of heirs. Become a grandmother, who whispered the same tales.
These days I can’t even bear to be in the presence of candlelight. I sleep when the sun sets. I know I should cast the fear out of my heart. Winters without fire are pleasant for no one. But every time I catch a glimpse of that orange flicker… I see Herstial up in flames, and my eyes roll and my heart pounds, and I cannot escape that terror.
I think maybe… I won’t stay in dusk court. I thought here I would find happiness… fulfillment... but everything about this place is like a remnant of a past life. And it is one I want so desperately to go back to and at the same time one I cannot bear to see any longer. It is so much like home it’s almost unbearable. The temple is far from that. New and exciting and different, and perhaps there I could cut the ties of longing that have kept me tethered for so long.
Finally, I am stricken from my thoughts as my hooves meet the cobblestone of the city. It’s been over a year I’ve lived within these walls, and yet still it seems so foreign. I didn’t know us creatures were capable of making such structures. Towering buildings of stone and mortar. I wonder who built them, who came first to Novus, and decided to lay down stones in each court. Was there some great architect whose name has been lost to time? Or were the courts already established, and fighting to have the greatest city. I suppose it would be written down somewhere, but I cannot be bothered to check.
I can see a girl ahead. She seems to think she is hidden, but in the city, it is far easier to hide among crowds, than it is to stand in the shadows. The latter only makes you seem like a creep. She seems… out of it. She holds a beautiful necklace, that I can only imagine is even more impressive when the sunlight hits it. I can imagine the refractions it would cast upon the stone walls.
“Are you alright?” I ask, the words slipping from my mouth before I think to stop them. Most people here wish you to leave them be. Before I even finish the sentence I watch the girl spit onto the cobblestones.
@Maybird
