Ea
04-11-2015, 09:27 PM
Ea is no wild thing; not like this girl. Though the fire-girl is born of the jungle – as evidenced by not only her blood, but the hidden fire-tattoo on the underside of her belly – she is not of the wild. She is structured, calculated; every move she makes and word she says is carefully planned, even at this age. She is not wise, no. She merely understands her importance in life.
Her mother coos to her, gently, mentioning tomorrow’s training, which does not thrill Ea. She is above it. What is there for her to know? Nothing that she cannot teach herself. But she merely flicks her tail at the remark, only moving more when another approaches them by accident. She sits up at the girl’s gentle hello, and smiles briefly before returning to her horizontal position.
She is small before them, the tiny black girl. For some reason, her mother is on high alert when the little one approaches them, but Ea is unconcerned. She raises her head to look at the girl as her mother stands over her, and flops back dramatically. “Mother,” she says, mildly agitated that her nap was being disturbed. “I like her. She can stay,” she says simply, without raising her head again.
Her mother coos to her, gently, mentioning tomorrow’s training, which does not thrill Ea. She is above it. What is there for her to know? Nothing that she cannot teach herself. But she merely flicks her tail at the remark, only moving more when another approaches them by accident. She sits up at the girl’s gentle hello, and smiles briefly before returning to her horizontal position.
She is small before them, the tiny black girl. For some reason, her mother is on high alert when the little one approaches them, but Ea is unconcerned. She raises her head to look at the girl as her mother stands over her, and flops back dramatically. “Mother,” she says, mildly agitated that her nap was being disturbed. “I like her. She can stay,” she says simply, without raising her head again.