09-24-2015, 05:12 PM
thorrun;
Thorunn was not a diplomat.
Her parents were of the fighting class - awkward warriors with short speeches and choppy sentences. They often left the meaning of their discussion hidden, choosing that stereotypical facade of being a hard ass. Thorunn tried to mimic her orange eyed father and his stoic nature. He was so heartless, it seemed, with that dark black coat and ugly features. Of course she idolized the sycophant as he tried to groom her to be his replacement. How long did he know he was dying, she wondered? And did mother? Did they know they would both abandon her and her twin sister within a year of each other?
They didn't die of a broken heart, they died because of time. Of age. Of the immortality that left him the minute the twins were born. Neither twin realized this. Covet did. The minute Thorunn fell and broke her neck and stood a minute later Covet felt a weight he'd never felt before. Aches. Pains. Old wounds coming back to haunt him. His immortality gone so Thorunn could live.
It was all borrowed time, really.
And they didn't give Thorunn any real skills to speak of - at least not diplomatically. When it came to the finer points of being in a kingdom Thorunn was at a loss. She could take down anyone who crossed her. She could - most likely - hold her own in any combat situation. But speak to another creature? She tried so hard to emulate her father but without seeing how he interacted with others...it was a daunting task. She found herself drowning without a real personality to call her own. Just a mirror of her dad, while being the spitting image of her mom.
She shouldn't be hard to see - copper colored, orange eyed, young and lithe and still pretty. Her demeanor is both stoic but childish, wandering toward the mare who crossed the border and her large wings and jaguar spots with curiosity reserved for the very young. And naive. Aren't all children that are absolutely loved naive? Despite her training she was sheltered, her large orange eyes taking in the wings. It's not until she's fully investigated them (from a distance, but still within sight) that she remembers her father - stoic. Cold. Detached.
"Hello, I am Thorunn," she says, her voice a false deadpan. "Are you new here?" She hasn't learned to identify smells of other kingdoms or even realize what they meant. Of course, if she hadn't seen her before she'd come from somewhere else. And to live, right?
Her parents were of the fighting class - awkward warriors with short speeches and choppy sentences. They often left the meaning of their discussion hidden, choosing that stereotypical facade of being a hard ass. Thorunn tried to mimic her orange eyed father and his stoic nature. He was so heartless, it seemed, with that dark black coat and ugly features. Of course she idolized the sycophant as he tried to groom her to be his replacement. How long did he know he was dying, she wondered? And did mother? Did they know they would both abandon her and her twin sister within a year of each other?
They didn't die of a broken heart, they died because of time. Of age. Of the immortality that left him the minute the twins were born. Neither twin realized this. Covet did. The minute Thorunn fell and broke her neck and stood a minute later Covet felt a weight he'd never felt before. Aches. Pains. Old wounds coming back to haunt him. His immortality gone so Thorunn could live.
It was all borrowed time, really.
And they didn't give Thorunn any real skills to speak of - at least not diplomatically. When it came to the finer points of being in a kingdom Thorunn was at a loss. She could take down anyone who crossed her. She could - most likely - hold her own in any combat situation. But speak to another creature? She tried so hard to emulate her father but without seeing how he interacted with others...it was a daunting task. She found herself drowning without a real personality to call her own. Just a mirror of her dad, while being the spitting image of her mom.
She shouldn't be hard to see - copper colored, orange eyed, young and lithe and still pretty. Her demeanor is both stoic but childish, wandering toward the mare who crossed the border and her large wings and jaguar spots with curiosity reserved for the very young. And naive. Aren't all children that are absolutely loved naive? Despite her training she was sheltered, her large orange eyes taking in the wings. It's not until she's fully investigated them (from a distance, but still within sight) that she remembers her father - stoic. Cold. Detached.
"Hello, I am Thorunn," she says, her voice a false deadpan. "Are you new here?" She hasn't learned to identify smells of other kingdoms or even realize what they meant. Of course, if she hadn't seen her before she'd come from somewhere else. And to live, right?