[P] hearts without chains

[Sabine]

S  A  B  I  N  E The clamour of the city did not appeal to this small oaken child. Surrounded by climbing voices in the streets of the Denoctian capitol, Sabine suffocated, for every which way she turned there awaited another face to peer down at her with a face that scorned or pitied for a reason unbeknownst to she: hearing the whispers of her illegitimacy and understanding them were, in Sabine's case, worlds apart. Word travelled fast among the shadowpeople of Caligo's kingdom, and so the notoriety of her mother's story and thus Sabine's very presence within their midst only grew with each passing moon. So, you see, for Sabi the citadel was nothing but a nest of anguish, choler and bewilderment.  As any child, then, she found relief elsewhere: her haven was the pouring expanse of Sideralis, Arma's forest under a swathe of sunlight, or Vitreus lake at sunset. Out here, beneath a sky so wide she could not see where it could possibly begin or end, Sabine was free: free of prickling eyes and hot city air. Alone, she could breathe. Alone - or so she thought. All too easily her father had caught his daughter unaware as she moved so heedlessly toward the forest ahead. Sabine detected only the slightest falling of shadow before she felt keen press of silver against her narrow little neck - she skidded clumsily into a halt, her chest hitching in shock. But Sabine had nothing to fear, for the blade was accompanied by a voice that instantly soothed the furrow of her brow, and her bluefire eyes glittered as she turned loose to face Raum. "Sorry, Papa."  Of all the people in Sabine's little world, her father was by far the favourite. For Raum was tall and pale and sharp like a sword, but to the girl, he was home. There was always warmth to be found in his smile if she looked closely enough, and she always did. Where her mother was nebulous wildfire, Raum was the ancient stone to endure any weather. Rhoswen was a fickle creature prone to bouts of redhot despair that consistently burned the thread of closeness between them, and as such their bond was tenuous and brittle. Raum was an unlikely guardian: a juxtaposition of rough and smooth, a bite of silver in the dark, but when Sabine looked up at his cool silvern features she saw only salvation. Her first love. He offered her the blade and her heart hitched, a golden smile blossoming into something pure beyond all definition. It was with great delicacy that Sabine took her father's gift, handling it with the gentle fascination of any child, before letting her tele hang the blade by her side as she looked back up toward Raum. "Mine, forever?" It was so beautiful, not even nature could have crafted something so fine. At the mention of her mother, the smile faded a little - the familiar hand of unease tightening around her throat, "I told her I was going to visit uncle Reich," a glance back at her new treasure, "I don't think she'd be too pleased to know you gave me this, Papa." A secret then. Sabine shivered, and all too soon the innocent excitement of it all overpowered her self-doubt. "Did your father give you a knife too?"  @Raum oh cuteness

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