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Posted: Dec 7 2011, 02:36 PM
I have a tale to be told, won't you listen tonight?
Member No.: 316
Joined: 23-July 05
Her head came out of the inky blackness of the cave. The sound of lapping water against rock filled her ears as she started to float. The viera is strong, the viera is lithe, she kept repeating in her head as her body felt like nothing gliding on the water's surface. Everything was blank as she took a breath of the oxygen in the small pocket of air. It made her feel light-headed but calm, almost reflexive on the last three years of her training.
She was an adult now, or at least she felt like one.
Her uncle was nice, for an old human, but his training was so much more psychological, more focused on the philosophy of war and the mysteries of the arcanum and the ascension. But the death of his wife still weighted heavy on his mid-life heart, and he kept wandering too much for her to get any concrete scheduled training from him. She only wished she'd get to know her cousins better, the judge that hunted down corrupt judges and the wandering poet, both great shapechanging warriors.
He father was obsessed with death, for he was a demon of grand strength and immortal life, and taught her of the malestrom of souls, or the umbra and the shadowplains, and of the grand misteries of life and the intense concentration requiered to follow them. She's never told him she suspects him not to be her real father, but her love for him was so that direct bloodline mattered naught.
Of all, she missed her mother the most. She taught her how to fight, and in the last year gave her the freedom to create her own style. She wasn't her real mother, yes, and her father was too stubborn to even ask her out (granted, he tried to kill her and I don't think they've put that behind each other), but it was the closest thing to a mother figure she's had in her life. And she was happy for it too, for even though she had never called her mother, she was proud to have such a strong and independant figure for one.
She came out of the water and sat on the shore, water running down her bare body. She'd figure there would be no one crazy enough to follow her this deep into the cave, or even dive that long enough in the dark water to find this particular pocket of air, so why bother using a bathing suit? She shook the water from her fur before grabbing her axe. Mother always said an axe didn't go well with a shield, but if you use the tip of a flat halbear as your weapon, you can get a deadly hybrid killer.
The cave was warm, and the old rags she had left on the small patch of land to dry were already that, right next to her clothes and backpack. She made a small bundle off the rags and softly whispered "Spirits of fire, please dance for me". The bundle caught fire almost instantly.
In a couple of minutes camp was set. Elena figured that it was too hot for clothing, thus remained on her damp fur and hair, her ears tied gently underneath her long white hair. Besides, most viera wore little to none clothing to begin with. She took her axe and started to sharpen it. She caught her eyes on the gleam as she did, and wondered when did my eyes started to look so vivid and not glazed like the dead? When did I start having such mortal feelings?. She laid the weapon down and slowly pressed her legs to her chest, her long arms wrapped around them.
"Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell;
And in the lowest deep a lower deep
Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide,
To which the Hell I suffer seems a Heav'n"
— John Milton (Paradise Lost)