01-11-2016, 03:56 PM
Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies
Her mother has, of course, taken her to the heart of the Chamber. They stood with it beating beneath their feet, as Straia told her of Atrox, of the panther-man and how his heart beat beneath the kingdom’s dirt. She took her to the tree, told the girl to cut her leg on a rock and let the blood drip beneath the burning tree. The flames danced and twisted, showing her pictures of a life that might happen. A life that might be hers one day, if she traveled that path.
Straia has shown her the ways through the pine forests, and the girl has taken to spending time in them alone, learning the feel of the bark and the way the branches caress her hide. The black and white girl does not know if the Chamber will remain her home forever, but it will always be home. She knows it too well already for it to stop being home.
The voice finds her first, just a word on the wind, before Weaver turns to see the other girl. “You smell like pine trees.” she observes, taking a moment to examine the girl, trying to place her. Unlike Mother, Weaver doesn’t know every face in the Chamber yet, but still, she knows the smell of her pine trees. The girl smells very much like them. “Did you follow me?” She asks, not necessarily accusingly, but almost as if she’s rather pleased at this thought.
Her, being followed! It makes her grin just a bit to know that she’s already leading the others about, braver perhaps than the lot to venture out alone (she would have gone, with or without the raven – mother insisted on the raven). Perhaps none of this is even remotely true, but she enjoys the thought anyway, and decides to live within her version of the truth. “I’m Weaver,” she finally offers, remembering some semblance of manners.
Straia has shown her the ways through the pine forests, and the girl has taken to spending time in them alone, learning the feel of the bark and the way the branches caress her hide. The black and white girl does not know if the Chamber will remain her home forever, but it will always be home. She knows it too well already for it to stop being home.
The voice finds her first, just a word on the wind, before Weaver turns to see the other girl. “You smell like pine trees.” she observes, taking a moment to examine the girl, trying to place her. Unlike Mother, Weaver doesn’t know every face in the Chamber yet, but still, she knows the smell of her pine trees. The girl smells very much like them. “Did you follow me?” She asks, not necessarily accusingly, but almost as if she’s rather pleased at this thought.
Her, being followed! It makes her grin just a bit to know that she’s already leading the others about, braver perhaps than the lot to venture out alone (she would have gone, with or without the raven – mother insisted on the raven). Perhaps none of this is even remotely true, but she enjoys the thought anyway, and decides to live within her version of the truth. “I’m Weaver,” she finally offers, remembering some semblance of manners.
weaver
weed and straia's chamber princess