i am
Ashr
daughter of the far north
The storm bears down on the Tundra, piling ice and snow so high that once it’s over she feels as though she can stand on top of it all and touch the clouds themselves; the land, though it looks very much like the place she was born, is foreign. She is the feral one here, primitive—a wild child borne under practices they abandoned long ago. She fumbles with her words sometimes while they speak so clear and plain. They seem sophisticated and graceful while she comes across as boorish and clumsy. Their customs confuse her and might as well belong to another species entirely. You see, there is no matriarch here—but they do serve a king; there is a band of sorts, but it’s called a ‘kingdom’ and everyone has their own rank and duties to adhere to; she tries to soak it all in but then ends up wanting to scream for her mother, wants to turn back now and take her chances with the frigid water rather than have to learn all of the rules of this scary new world. It’s all too much, too soon. But then she remembers what is waiting for her on the other side and thinks better of it.Besides, if not for Romek and Lieschel, she wouldn’t be alive right now.
She has stuck close to them ever since, whether they realize it or not; she’s careful to keep her distance, however, so as not to be a nuisance whilst she heals and learns to deal with her losses. It’s not easy, even after a month or so. She still has nightmares, still sees Him come after her family night after night; she always wakes with a start, her throat raw from screaming and tears sliding down her cheeks. She’s always tired, she’s tired right now—but when the call rings out her head shoots up and she watches the adults shuffle past her. Curious, she makes herself trudge through the snow after them.
“The magic is gone,” are the first words Ashr ever hears come out of Offspring’s mouth.
She weaves between bodies and slips between everyone as best she can until she reaches the front, unceremoniously poking her head out from between someone’s legs to get a better look at this ‘king.’ He has red eyes, this King of the North, and a certain authoritive look about him that she supposes demands respect. Something dire seems to have happened, he speaks of Deserts and sending diplomats to the Jungle and she finds herself practically wiggling with excitement rather than the crippling anxiety she’d felt a month previously. Before she can bite her tongue, she blurts out: “Can- can I do something?” And immediately, she feels her face heat up. Embarrased, she tries to back out from under the horse whose legs she’d poked her head through and tries to hide among the rest of the crowd.
[I am a dirty skimmer. :|]