Oueeee, if I win the doe I long for, he will be a thing! I somehow feel odd about pairing him up with another deer. It is a good thing that I am good at speed flats.
For now, he must remain intangible and fluid. Just a little while longer.
I kinda sorta feel the same way about Baby(the 8 year old I was talking about before). The one buck in the speed flat is the one I want, good thing I'm home all day tomorrow, I'll be all like ~staaaaaaareisittimeyet?staaaaaare~
Chosen name: Maria Slaugh Entry: She had been for the most part hesitant to pick up the totem. What use did such a thing have for her? She was a merchant’s daughter, no one with little use for trinkets and baubles. So how, how was it that she was now before the totems, hand out stretched, fingers mere inches from them? She was not special, nor, was she skilled or talented in any facilities. She was a simple girl, who liked simple things. Who obeyed her parents and shivered when the cold winds howled and trembled when she passed the wolf stones.
She was no one special, yet she wanted to be. She wanted to be able to sing and dance like the village girls. She wanted to be able to knit and sew like her mother. She wanted to be able to bake like her sister. But Maria was not a village girl. Maria was not her mother. Maria was also definitely not her sister. She was simply Maria, a merchant’s daughter, and someday possible bartering tool for her father like her sister had been. She loved the travel, hated the reason.
None of these things explained why she was reaching out for a totem. She’s come across it by chance. Fate perhaps? Did it matter? She prayed to the spirits to help her… was this their answer? She’d run away, away from the caravan, away from being a merchant’s daughter. She wasn’t fit to be out in the cold. She packed poorly. Her water skin was full, but her meats and veggies and breads were all but gone. Days in the woods, jumping at any and all sounds-
Maria was not someone special.
The tree had been a welcomed relief. Shelter from the cold perhaps, from whatever lurked in the woods still. She was lost, cold, and hunger was making it’s way into her belly. She’d run away in a fit of foolishness, in a fit of wanting to find something else, and now? Now she would freeze to death in the forest. She didn’t have food to offer the spirits. No trinkets or baubles. Not even a pretty ribbon that she might have once used in her hair. The only thing she had left to offer really was clothes from her back or- The knight she’d stolen from her mother’s kitchen can into the light as a lock of hair was violently cut away.
Placing it on the ground she’s asked to stay safe and warm. That was an hour ago, and after she circled the tree, the totems now lay before her. Was this an answer? Maybe. Compulsion drew her to pick up one of them up, solid as stone and weight it in her hand. This was what she wanted. It felt- special.
Maria was not special, but she dreamed that night, if only for a while, she was.
I am entering for Buck 2! Guardian name: Caspian Chosen name: Ariel Entry:
The shrill voice of Miss Hendrie startled her out of her thoughts, and Ariel’s gaze snapped back to the tea table, her cheeks flushed at having been caught with her mind wandering yet again. Across the table, her mother, Lady Abigail Winchester, took a long sip of her tea in icy disapproval, and Ariel’s eyes fell to her folded hands. Her governess Miss Hendrie, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as reserved.
“Goodness child, you’d think you were holding tea with the Wardwood and not your esteemed mother, what with all those long looks you give it. Tell me foolish girl, what do you find so fascinating about those old trees that has completely distracted you from your responsibilities?”
It was a rhetorical question, and Ariel knew better than to answer it. Any attempt to explain her recent fixation with the Wardwood would fall on deaf ears. She had always felt somewhat… constricted by her life. There was a tightness in her chest with every curtsy, an inward grimace at every social event and party, a curiosity for all matters that shouldn’t concern a noblewoman, and a distaste for everything that should. Yet lately, she had grown more and more restless, even dissatisfied with the trivialities of etiquette and reputation and socializing. She wanted nothing more than to abandon her lessons and her teas and run barefoot through the grounds of Windermere in the shade of the Wardwood, like she’d done as a child, no things such as propriety or respectability to hold her back.
“Ariella, are you listening to me?” And yet again her attention was dragged back to the table, her eyes having once again wandered to the woods. Miss Hendrie was looking extremely put as she ranted about Ariel’s disgraceful behavior, and as for her mother, well, Lady Winchester patted her mouth delicately with her napkin and, to Ariel’s shame, excused herself from the table. This sent the governess into another fit of scolding, and suddenly Ariel was on her feet and on the run, bolting from the room with Miss Hendrie screaming (in the most dignified way possible) after her.
She ran until she had crossed the grounds, slowing only when she reached the shade of the Wardwood, panting and clutching a tree for support. She looked back at Windermere, the estate and the Winchester legacy looming beautiful and majestic over its bordering lake, and shuddered at the thought of what awaited her back there, how she would explain her latest stunt, how Miss Hendrie would have her head for this and her mother would continue with her icy disapproval.
The Wardwood was far more welcoming. The leaves rustled around her, the earth breathed beneath her feet, and as she heard Miss Hendrie cry her name across the grounds, Ariel tore her gaze from Windermere and to the woods. She took one step, then another, then another into the embrace of the trees, not sure where she was going, but not looking back.