04-16-2023, 11:47 PM
Raea
She was hesitant to relax in this new world, but there were creeping moments where she found herself doing just that.
No one here seemed to care who—or what—she is, and it is a freeing experience. She was so accustomed to Baltia and Stratos, where no matter which land she visited she was an outsider. Too much of one thing, not enough of the other, and it felt as though her halves never made a whole. It was why her parents had chosen to raise her away from both lands; with the tensions of war so strong it seemed to be the safest course of action.
But safety for Raea had meant isolation, and now here she was, grown, but feeling like a child staring wide-eyed at the world. She already felt as if she didn’t fully know Baltia and Stratos, but this place was something else entirely. Beqanna was full of magic that she had never imagined; things so far beyond just water and sky, it all felt like too much for her mind to hold.
The longer she was here, though, the more confident she became.
She found herself venturing further, with no real destination in mind (how could she have one, when she doesn’t even know what is out there?). Today, she had chosen to follow the river, on the side opposite of where the Ruins lay. Beqanna was far more diverse in landscape than what she was accustomed to, and to her the fields of emerald green and bright wildflowers, the towering trees and the mountains in the distance, were more beautiful than anything she could have possibly dreamt up.
She would be content to wander this for all the rest of her days, she thinks, and never grow tired of it.
But when she comes across the kelpie sunning himself near the river, she finds her steps faltering.
Beqanna had no shortage of its own sea creatures, but it is not until she ventures closer that she recognizes the familiar traits she was looking for; the gills and the shockingly black eyes. “You’re from Baltia,” she finds herself saying before she can stop herself, her own pitch-black eyes seeming to flash with something like hope and fear. It was an involuntary reaction, something that she is not sure will ever go away—a lifetime of never knowing how a Baltian would react to her feathers or how a Stratosian would handle her Baltian eyes and water wings was not so easily forgotten. All the same, she cannot deny the hope and relief that blooms in her chest every time she finds someone from the only other world she had known. “My name is Raea. I…” she trails off, the words seemingly trapped on her tongue. She cannot say she is from there when she is not; it was not her place to claim, just as Stratos was not either. “My father was from there.”
No one here seemed to care who—or what—she is, and it is a freeing experience. She was so accustomed to Baltia and Stratos, where no matter which land she visited she was an outsider. Too much of one thing, not enough of the other, and it felt as though her halves never made a whole. It was why her parents had chosen to raise her away from both lands; with the tensions of war so strong it seemed to be the safest course of action.
But safety for Raea had meant isolation, and now here she was, grown, but feeling like a child staring wide-eyed at the world. She already felt as if she didn’t fully know Baltia and Stratos, but this place was something else entirely. Beqanna was full of magic that she had never imagined; things so far beyond just water and sky, it all felt like too much for her mind to hold.
The longer she was here, though, the more confident she became.
She found herself venturing further, with no real destination in mind (how could she have one, when she doesn’t even know what is out there?). Today, she had chosen to follow the river, on the side opposite of where the Ruins lay. Beqanna was far more diverse in landscape than what she was accustomed to, and to her the fields of emerald green and bright wildflowers, the towering trees and the mountains in the distance, were more beautiful than anything she could have possibly dreamt up.
She would be content to wander this for all the rest of her days, she thinks, and never grow tired of it.
But when she comes across the kelpie sunning himself near the river, she finds her steps faltering.
Beqanna had no shortage of its own sea creatures, but it is not until she ventures closer that she recognizes the familiar traits she was looking for; the gills and the shockingly black eyes. “You’re from Baltia,” she finds herself saying before she can stop herself, her own pitch-black eyes seeming to flash with something like hope and fear. It was an involuntary reaction, something that she is not sure will ever go away—a lifetime of never knowing how a Baltian would react to her feathers or how a Stratosian would handle her Baltian eyes and water wings was not so easily forgotten. All the same, she cannot deny the hope and relief that blooms in her chest every time she finds someone from the only other world she had known. “My name is Raea. I…” she trails off, the words seemingly trapped on her tongue. She cannot say she is from there when she is not; it was not her place to claim, just as Stratos was not either. “My father was from there.”
@tharion