09-03-2022, 02:18 PM
Raea
This place is not home, and she does not belong here.
She thinks it over and over, each time her eyes settle on something strange, or something fascinating. And every time, the thought is echoed by a you’ve never had a home to begin with retort, and the snideness of her inner voice makes her gut clench.
That nearly deserted island was meant to be home, was meant to be a sanctuary for her and her parents. Her father, a soldier for Baltia, and her mother, a quiet, unassuming girl from Stratos, had known that raising their daughter in either kingdom would have been met with disdain. Raising her away from either kingdom had, at the time, felt like the only option.
The guilt that took root in her chest when she first realized it was her fault her parents no longer lived in their respective kingdoms was like a slow-moving poison, spreading through her veins and her bones. The domino effect that her existence had on their lives—them leaving their homes, her father eventually caving and returning to Baltia without them, and the downward spiral of her mother—played out in her mind nearly constantly, and she was almost grateful for the series of disasters that led to the revealing of Beqanna.
She does not belong here, but she is not meant to belong.
Even though Beqanna is not without its own vibrancy and magic, she is clearly an outsider. Her Baltian eyes are almost eerie against the soft colors of her face, and the way the pastel, sunrise-colored feathers along her face, neck, and chest stretch to meet the ocean-blue of her body, and the cascade of water that spills from her sides in the shape of wings, all serve as a visual representation of what she is—a collision of the sky and the sea, but not wholly either one.
She didn’t mean to intrude on his corner of the forest, but in her aimless wandering she soon lost track of where was. Even though the flooded waters had caused the size of this land to shrink considerably, it was still larger than the island she had grown up on, and the forests were not nearly so dark. Fear begins to creep up spine, icy and relentless, and though her breathing remains controlled it is her heart that has taken up an erratic rhythm.
She doesn’t see him, not yet, but she cannot shake the feeling that someone is nearby, cloaked in the shadows of the trees, and so finally she calls out tentatively: “Hello?”
She thinks it over and over, each time her eyes settle on something strange, or something fascinating. And every time, the thought is echoed by a you’ve never had a home to begin with retort, and the snideness of her inner voice makes her gut clench.
That nearly deserted island was meant to be home, was meant to be a sanctuary for her and her parents. Her father, a soldier for Baltia, and her mother, a quiet, unassuming girl from Stratos, had known that raising their daughter in either kingdom would have been met with disdain. Raising her away from either kingdom had, at the time, felt like the only option.
The guilt that took root in her chest when she first realized it was her fault her parents no longer lived in their respective kingdoms was like a slow-moving poison, spreading through her veins and her bones. The domino effect that her existence had on their lives—them leaving their homes, her father eventually caving and returning to Baltia without them, and the downward spiral of her mother—played out in her mind nearly constantly, and she was almost grateful for the series of disasters that led to the revealing of Beqanna.
She does not belong here, but she is not meant to belong.
Even though Beqanna is not without its own vibrancy and magic, she is clearly an outsider. Her Baltian eyes are almost eerie against the soft colors of her face, and the way the pastel, sunrise-colored feathers along her face, neck, and chest stretch to meet the ocean-blue of her body, and the cascade of water that spills from her sides in the shape of wings, all serve as a visual representation of what she is—a collision of the sky and the sea, but not wholly either one.
She didn’t mean to intrude on his corner of the forest, but in her aimless wandering she soon lost track of where was. Even though the flooded waters had caused the size of this land to shrink considerably, it was still larger than the island she had grown up on, and the forests were not nearly so dark. Fear begins to creep up spine, icy and relentless, and though her breathing remains controlled it is her heart that has taken up an erratic rhythm.
She doesn’t see him, not yet, but she cannot shake the feeling that someone is nearby, cloaked in the shadows of the trees, and so finally she calls out tentatively: “Hello?”
— i’ll kidnap all the stars and i will keep them in your eyes —
@nazghul