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 Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 11:31 am
 (Art by kaname423)|| Stats Page || Updated: Feb/07/18
Experience || 23
Inventory
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 12:13 pm
Previous journal entries ahead~
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 12:15 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 12:16 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 12:17 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 12:20 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 17, 2016 12:22 pm
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Posted: Tue Mar 22, 2016 8:38 pm
Youngling- Journal entry
Frozen Flames The time was drawing near. Aaricia had explored as much as she could, sketching and taking notes on every path she found. With her friend Frik’s help, she charted out which way would be best to go. They were both eager to be free of Zena, and now that they had hidden away enough money, they were just about ready to go. After various encounters, she decided that she wanted to go to Jauhar. Someone had told her once of a place there where no one judged based on origins or looks. She knew they could all be happy there, she and her mother and Frik... Life would be better there.
Aaricia still had to tell her mother though. That would be the hard part. In a way, she felt bad asking mama to leave her home, but she also knew that mama wasn’t completely happy. Most of the town scorned the woman for having a hybrid child, and Aaricia saw it practically every day. She didn’t want her mama to be the target of the town anymore. She’d sat with Frik for quite a while that day, discussing how she might approach her mother about the plan, and they decided that it would be best just to be forward about it. Surely mama would want to go where none of them would be ridiculed for loving each other!
Unfortunately, as they were heading back, a snow storm started to blow in. They hurried to get home before the worst of the storm hit, and had just reached the main road when they saw the man standing there.
The man was tall, clearly an adult, with dark skin and red eyes, and layered with furs. He was clearly not used to the Zenan temperatures. When he saw them, those eyes widened slightly, landing right on Aaricia. As Frik stepped protectively in front of her though, those same eyes narrowed sharply. “..My name is Dazhiq,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. “It’s time to come home, Aaricia, my daughter. Come home with your father. I want to take care of you.”
The youths stepped back, Frik shaking his head. “So nice of you to invite her, but she’s staying here. Besides, Izchora would never let you take her away.”
Aaricia could only stare for a moment. Her.. father? Was it really? “Why should I go with you?” she asked stubbornly, peeking out from behind her friend. “I don’t want to go with you. I’m staying with mama.”
Dazhiq’s face darkened. “You know, your mother didn’t tell me you existed. I had to find out on my own. We are going. Now.”
Aaricia shook her head, still wondering how to talk herself free, but Frik had made up his mind. Grabbing Aaricia’s hand, Frik spun and darted back into the woods. They heard the man holler after them, followed by a few sharp whistles that made her ears sting.
She was looking back at the man when she felt Frik stumble to a halt, and heard him scream. Her eyes popped forward, and she saw what had caused Frik to stop, a high scream rising from her as well. That had to be a demon in front of them! It had plated skin and large, glimmering teeth. It glared at them with tiny eyes, looking ready to ram them with curled horns. It was laden with a heavy saddle of some sort, but that did nothing to lessen the ferocious features. She heard a couple more sharp whistles from behind, and the demon creature leapt to attack. Frik pushed Aaricia out of the way, and went flying as the demon chomped onto his shoulder. Aaricia had a scream caught in her throat, frozen in place as she watched the demon throw her best friend around like a doll...
When a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, she squirmed and screamed and kicked, but she was no match for the adult. The tears were freezing on her cheeks, eyes locked on the limp body of her friend thrown to the side. With a sharp call of a deep voice from the man holding her, the demon turned and headed back for them, leaving Frik face down in the snow. She couldn’t tell if he was alive... A trembling arm rose to reach out toward her friend as the man climbed with her onto the demon’s back. As they rode off, the man wrapped Aaricia with a blanket. She could feel him trying to dry her ceaseless tears with that blanket as well, and he was talking to her, but she couldn’t hear a word, or see him trying to give her an encouraging smile. She only saw Frik’s body, and could only hear his screams, her own body going limp from the deep pain and fear in her heart.
Dazhiq sighed and shook his head when he realized what a state of shock Aaricia was in. “Don’t worry, daughter. You’ll have a better life with me in Oba. You’ll see.” Securing himself to his janarim, he gave another whistle, and the creature ran faster across the snowy landscape, seemingly unhindered by the weight and layers of protection it bore. Dazhiq was eager to return to Oba with his heir. ..Perhaps his trip through Zena long ago wouldn’t turn out to have been a total waste after all? If having an heir was what he needed to get control of the business, then the risk of another trip to Zena to collect her was worth it. **See history for parent's story~
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Posted: Sun Aug 21, 2016 5:32 pm
Prentice - Journal entry 1
Sand Doesn’t Melt Aaricia hadn’t been ready for the move to Oba at all. Growing up in the snow and ice of Zena, the change to Oba’s dry heat had been a shock to her system. Her first few months were just sitting in her bedroom trying to not overheat and drinking as much water and she could possibly handle! Everything in Oba was hot to the recent ice dweller. Being forced by her father to wear a scarf over her head any time she left her room did not help matters either. The scarf material was needlessly thick for its purpose of hiding Aaricia’s blue hair, the man rather paranoid to start off with his daughter’s mixed heritage. Her father, a harsh, passionate, loud, charismatic and manipulative man named Dazhiq, often would have her greet the guests, but then preferred she go away for the remainder of his meetings.
As Aaricia aged, she found that there were three categories of people in her father’s circle of so-called friends, with whom she had the most interaction. Her favorites were the people who were neutral to her presence. To them, she was just another child of a fellow businessman. Sometimes they would give her a smile and a nod, or would ignore her completely. Seeing as her father preferred she not be around during his business meetings, interaction with them was minimal. These were the types she saw most after arriving. This grouping also held the servants who worked for her father. They were paid, so they were not slaves thanks to the efforts of many. They hated Dazhiq about as much as Aaricia did. Under threat of termination of their jobs, the two Matorian servants were strictly forbidden from being anything more to the hybrid than servants.
One set of people who showed up as she came of age and grew more independent (aka, more able to get away with not wearing the smothering scarf over her hair) was those who despised her on sight. Some would glare because she was a female, and others would spit at the sight of her blue hair and golden eyes. Her father would allow them to openly ridicule her for her looks if she stumbled into a meeting accidentally, and for the tears that followed more often than not. Their stinging words got a little bit easier to ignore as she grew, but it was still difficult to hear. So long as she wasn’t questioned as his heir, Dazhiq allowed pretty much anything on those occasions.
The other set she saw after some time was the set that was utterly enamored by her “exotic” features. She actively hid in her room until those people left... The way they would stare, brush her arms, hold her hand for too long after a greeting, and would even hug her too tightly made her thoroughly uncomfortable. They would give her compliments dripping with sick sweetness and innuendo. For his part, Dazhiq seemed pleased by the attention his daughter was getting. After all, he made no secret of wishing to have her marry and keep the bloodline going. Once he got her married to another wealthy Oban and producing grandchildren, his business would be secure and she would be out of his hair.
She faced even more of the same when she was finally able to leave the house. Walking with at least one guard at all times drove her mad as it was. Top it off with people “accidentally” shoving her roughly into walls or pinching the back of her skirt, and it was difficult for Aaricia to have any tolerance for Oba. She hated it there. The heat, the people, the sand that got into every nook of her clothes and didn’t melt away... All of it made the girl think of nothing but going home. Too bad she had no idea how she would go about accomplishing such a feat. After all, she was a business tool; her father would not let her sneak off easily. Restricted to the house, guarded nearly every minute... Besides, she did not feel that she was brave enough to make the trek alone.
In Zena, she’d at least had her mother. She’d at least had her best friend, Frik. She might have faced disgust and cruel words for her hybrid blood there, but at least she’d had someone supporting her. She’d had someone to remind her every single day that she was important to them.
The thought of home still made Aaricia cry at night. The worst part of coming to Oba was the lack of knowledge on what had happened to the two people she cared most about in the world. Her last sight of her friend had him lying face down and bleeding in the snow of the mountains. Was he alive? Was he dead? Had he suffered? Had anyone found him? Was he getting stronger? Had he made another friend..? Aaricia also had no idea if Dazhiq had done anything to her mother. Was she alive? Was she well? Was she worrying herself sick? ..Was she happier now without her hybrid daughter?
That final question would come with a stab of pain, but then would dissipate as quickly as it had come. Despite the passage of time, she knew her mother loved her. Whether or not her mother was alive, Aaricia could grab hold of that warmth to eventually help her sleep.
Oba was certainly not where she wanted to be. She wanted to be in the house where she had grown up. She wanted to hear her friend laughing. She wanted to listen to her mother’s loving words. She wanted the safe embrace of both. Aaricia had no idea if she would ever be able to see her loved ones again. For now.. she could imagine the best. She could imagine her friend had been found and was healed by now, back in classes and training, always getting stronger. She could imagine her mother somehow knows that the situation is for the best for the time being, and is working contently and making more friends. Aaricia wasn’t sure how her situation could be for the best... but she could imagine it. With no proof, she could imagine they were safe and happy. ..She wished she could imagine the same for herself.
Truthfully, the more she wished for happiness, the more often she could find tastes of it around her. She could enjoy listening to the music of the street performers. She could sew as much as she wished to. She could enjoy the foods that her tastes were slowly becoming accustomed to during her meals. She could even... she could even enjoy little bits of conversation with some people she met on her trips through the market. And so what if the sand didn’t melt? It didn’t fall from the sky to block paths like snow could. Get sand a little wet, and one could even have a little fun.
No, it wasn’t home. To her, Oba would never be ‘home.’ However, with the passage of time, she could find spots to remind her of snow and ice to cheer her up and comfort her in her desert prison. (( word count: 1,202 = 4 points ))
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Posted: Wed Sep 21, 2016 2:12 pm
Prentice - Journal entry 2
The Blame Game The day was beautiful for a change. A cool north wind was blowing through, helping things be a little more comfortable than usual. Aaricia sat outside in the back garden, reading a little book. Romance and adventure and daring and determination... Would she get any of those someday?
“Well, I’m impressed, Aaricia,” Dazhiq’s deep voice purred contently. “Looks like there’s more Oban to you than your skin~” Laughing, he reached out and patted her shoulder with a heavy hand. “Ah, my daughter, this is a day to celebrate!” Grinning, he dropped a small trinket at Aaricia’s side.
Wrinkling her nose, Aaricia looked up and back with confusion. “I am not Oban. I am Zenan.” This stupid little game of his... but why was he smirking so gleefully? Frowning, she plucked up the little gift. It was a thick ring with two pointed ends on opposite sides. Touching the ends, she realized they were rounded slightly. “Why would I want this?” she asked suspiciously.
Dazhiq shook his head. “I used this to punish slaves back in the days before someone decided to let the fish go free. Thought you might want it for yourself~”
Aaricia shrieked and dropped the ring as though it had suddenly turned red hot and burned. It wasn’t pointed enough to break the skin, but to receive a slap or a punch from a hand wearing it... “You’re disgusting!” she huffed, standing sharply. Despite her anger, there was a pit in her belly. The man was still smiling...
Dazhiq watched his daughter a moment, savoring the reaction. There was still so much more to come. “Well, considering what you did to that fishy servant boy recently, I figured that you had finally come to the right way of thinking. You did just what was needed at that dinner party to get him in trouble. Impressive, indeed. That will show him for speaking above his station.”
Aaricia stared a moment before what he was saying registered. Dinner party? Fishy servant she spoke to? There was only one dinner party recently where she had interacted with the servants more than to simply express her thanks. “Nyko?” The pit grew cold as she looked up with wide eyes. “Father, what do you mean? Nyko.- I mean- the boy only spoke to me a little. How is that wrong?”
A bushy brow cocked with amusement. “Of course it’s wrong! You are Oban, and he is a servant.” He paused dramatically, looking up at the sky. “Or, was a servant. I’m not sure anymore.”
Aaricia couldn’t help herself stepping forward. “What do you mean? What happened to him? What did they do?!”
Dazhiq told Aaricia all about what he had “heard” about Nyko’s fate. Of course, the only thing he knew was that the boy had been punished and beaten. Well deserved~ His limited knowledge didn’t stop him from adding a few embellishments of his own that he thought would be fitting. Broken limbs, pools of blood, screams and pleas...
The more Dazhiq spoke, the lower Aaricia sank. She felt like throwing up. Was all that really happening to Nyko? Was it really because of her? She knew that masters could be cruel, but this... “Father, please go tell them to stop! Tell them he did nothing wrong! Let me go tell them!”
Finally, something was breaking. Dazhiq planned to use this to his full advantage. Maybe the girl would finally behave after this. “Well, clearly, it’s too late to stop anything. It’s already happened. You knew he would be punished for his actions, and you just let him go ahead and dig an even deeper grave for himself.” Cocking his head, his tone softened with mock sadness. “Oh, did you really not think this would happen. Oh, I’m sorry, my dear.” Kneeling down, he grabbed Aaricia’s shoulder and held it firmly as he leaned in. “Perhaps you should consider the consequences of your actions on others before acting so selfish, hmm?” He pressed a light kiss to her forehead and stood tall. “Do you understand now?” Grinning, he turned and headed back into the house.
Aaricia had collapsed into herself. How...? How could someone be so cruel? How... how could she have not considered what might result from her actions?! She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, the despair washing over her. There had been no mention of how Nyko was now. No mention on if he was dead or alive. Gods.. why did she endanger everyone around her? Why did she have to be so stubborn?
She could keep her head down.
She could keep silent.
She could be a good girl. (( word count: 775 = 2 points ))
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2016 12:35 am
Prentice - Journal entry 3
Class Affinity It really didn’t take long for Aaricia to realize that her attempt to please her father was flawed. She was trying to be good. She was following his orders by wearing the cloth over her hair. She went to every dinner party, every dance, and every business meeting that she was told to. She kept her head down, she stayed quiet during meals at home, and she wore the silly clothes he bought her. It was exhausting work, trying to keep up with the demands that were placed on her every day.
It would never be enough though. It would never be enough for anyone!
After a recent incident that had resulted in a few broken ribs, Aaricia had accepted help from an unexpected and unusual source; a man from the mysterious island of Yeali! While accepting help from a strange man was outside of what she should do, Aaricia felt that she had little choice in the matter. Her ‘escort’ had fled at the sight of the stranger, and she had been in pain. Surely, anything would be better than going to the Oban doctor who made it clear every time that he hated touching her. The Yealian had a strange shade of tan skin, and a head full of lavender hair that she thought was absolutely lovely. The strangest part was his eyes. They were black where they should have been white, and the silver iris had a glow! The glow was even enhanced by the odd goggles he wore in front of his eyes. Things called ‘glasses’ for seeing better. For being so different, the man had been so sure of himself. People had given them such fearful, hateful, curious looks, but the man paid it no mind. He was simply intent on helping her to heal.
Despite the circumstances, what with the injuries and all, she’d had a rather pleasant evening with her savior. She had stayed out too long though. She had lost track of the time. By the time she returned home, her father had been furious. He listed every possible little reason that he could think of to be mad at her. Aaricia felt like the list would have taken up a whole length of scroll to write them down! At first, Aaricia had hung her head in acknowledgement of the things she had done wrong.
“Aaricia! Damn it all, girl. Are you purposefully trying to make it so that I can’t show my face outside again?”
“No, father,” came her meek reply.
“You were just supposed to dance with the man, not slap him. I did not take you to visit the fine home of my associate to give your opinion in any way.”
“No, father.”
“That man has been a business partner of mine for years. Do you know how embarrassing it was for him, getting treated like that by you? Never mind how embarrassing it was for me to see my own daughter behaving like some self-righteous tavern wench in front of all of my dear associates?”
“I am sorry, father.”
“What are you doing wandering off with some monster, and at this hour? He could have killed you, or worse! I don’t need my business partners thinking that I allow you to interrelate with those freaks.”
“Yes, father.”
Her father ranted a little more, and then she was sent to her room with a guard at the door to make sure she wouldn’t try leaving to find those “freaks” again.
By now, Aaricia had gotten quite numb to her father’s anger. However, when she was left to the quiet of her room, she felt the anger bubbling up. She tried hard to repress such an unpleasant emotion, and sat down by her window with the view of the gardens. Such a view was usually soothing to the flustered girl.
This time.. it only made her more upset. She didn’t want this view. Why was it that she was able to see it, and not someone who surely deserved it more? Why was it that her father, a despicable man, got to enjoy the luxury of this home, and not one of the kind souls currently out on the street? It was not right! If only she could do something about it... but what could one girl like her do?
She wanted to be able to take the wealth from those who squandered it and share it with those who truly needed it. There were people out there who needed shelter, food, and clothing. Such basic needs that they couldn’t get for one reason or another. Such basic needs that her father was never concerned about in the least.
Not that she wanted to remove all of everyone’s wealth. Some of the nobles had worked hard for their plentiful harvests! She admired them- to a point. They had worked hard, but most of that handful did little to improve the lives of others. She knew that the majority of the business people she met were associated with her father because they held similar repulsive values, and that they were only a portion of Obans, but she had overheard enough boasting and chatter than she new... She couldn’t become one of them as her father wanted.
Aaricia walked away from the window and sat at her little craft desk, her hands running over a small stack of fabric. She had wanted to be a seamstress ever since her mother had taught her how to hold a needle. It was still her passion. She felt it always would be. However... being only a seamstress would not help those who needed it. She could use those skills to help, certainly, but she needed to be something more. She needed to be someone more. Someone who was not afraid to raise her head! Someone who was not afraid to speak for herself!
The sudden thoughts made her grin. Oh, she wasn’t so sure that she wanted such a central role. Maybe.. maybe she could lead from the shadows! She could help others from behind the curtains, behind the walls. With her smile bright, Aaricia hopped up to stand on her bed. She could be a rogue queen! Princess, even! Someone others could turn to for help when no one else would! Stealthy as the wind and silent as the night! She would inspire stories and songs! Imagine, the strong, mystical princess of shadows, stealing from the despicable rich and giving to the poor! Beautiful! Brave! Cunning! She would be unstoppable!
Aaricia didn’t realize that she had started actually jumping around, laughing with delight. In her mind’s eye, she was a graceful and elegant figure dressed in black, sheer fabric waving behind her like smoke. She was agile, leaping high and creeping low. The cowardly snobs would tremble with fear at the sight of her!
Something banged hard on the door and a rough voice growled through. “Oy, girl! Shut up in there!”
Clapping a hand over her mouth to stop the, she slowly sat back down and curled up against her pillows, eyes going dull again. No... What was she thinking? How more self centered could she possibly be? She was not a leader. She was not brave. She was not cunning. She certainly was not strong... Here in Oba, she was only Dazhiq’s weird daughter. Nothing more. (( word count: 1,224 = 4 points ))
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Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2016 12:58 pm
Prentice- Growth Quest Solo
Pickpocket Everyone has a breaking point. Some reach it with just a little push, while others take more time to find that line. Some people seek out that line, and savor the chaos that follows. Some people even resist finding that line, and when it comes, it is like a sharp smack to their face.
Aaricia resisted finding that line. She avoided it as though it was a plague. There was enough chaos in her life, so she certainly did not want to outright cause more. She could find a way to be the good daughter. She could, and then everything would be okay! She could find contentment in peace.
However, that was not how things worked for the little hybrid.
A heavy voice grumbled through the door of her bedroom, “Aaricia, your father is requesting your presence.”
This late in the evening? Normally, her father sent her to her room and that was all until morning. Of course, ‘request’ was simply ‘demand’ in father speak... “I will be a moment. I have already changed into my nightgown,” she called back. A sharp hit to the door made her jump.
“Your father wants you. Now.”
Aaricia frowned and stared at the door. “He would surely prefer that I make myself presentable for-”
The fist hit her door again. “Now!”
This... did not bode well. Thankfully, the nightgown was a modest piece with a high collar and long skirt. Aaricia pulled down her robe to slip on over her nightgown and cautiously opened the door. She looked up at the guard, but the man would not meet her eyes. Most of the time, her father’s henchmen would glare or at least smirk at her when she showed up. Something was very odd here. She followed the man through the house to the main room, where she saw her father, and, to her horror, one of her father’s smug looking business partners. The same man had broken her ribs just a couple weeks ago. If she moved the wrong way, she still got a little stab of pain there.
Dazhiq smiled brightly. “Ah, my darling daughter. You remember my friend J’zara here, yes?” Dazhiq walked over and grabbed Aaricia’s arm. On the surface, it simply seemed firm. Aaricia winced as the grip turned sharp and she was pulled forward. “Despite your utterly deplorable behavior some time ago, J’zara here has managed to take quite a liking to you,” Dazhiq crooned. “You are a lucky girl, Aaricia. J’zara wishes to marry you! He is even willing to take you home now, before the wedding. That is commitment, my dear. That is commitment.”
J’zara’s eyes had been locked onto Aaricia that whole time, and now he stepped forward to take her other arm. “You will never know hunger with me,” the man assured with a sleazy grin. “You will never have to work, or even step outside the house with me! All of your needs will be met.”
Aaricia’s heart jumped into her throat. “Father...” She looked back to her father with wide, pleading eyes. She wasn’t ready for this. The man was scum...
Dazhiq’s bright smile sharpened. “My dear, you are of age. It is time for you to wed. It is time for you to become a woman and make yourself useful. You are the heir to my business, after all. Someone has to continue my line, and J’zara is the perfect man to join houses with.”
Aaricia felt sick. She’d always known that this was the plan... but to have it actually standing before her now.. in the form of that creep... “Y..yes.... father...” Be good... this would be okay somehow... She let herself be accepted into J’zara’s arms, and her stomach sank down into her feet. A hand slid under her chin to lift her face, and that smug smirk leaned in tight...
Her whole body felt numb as she sat on the couch next to J’zara and across from her father, listening to the pair discuss the details. She wanted to wash her mouth out and scrub it raw. The man’s tongue had been slimy and gross, invading her space without concern. The moment those lips had touched her own, she had mentally died. She would be lost forever if she went with this man...
As it was, Dazhiq insisted on finishing the business end of the deal before J’zara too complete of advantage of his new bride-to-be. So, there Aaricia sat, robe pulled tightly around herself while she watched her father sign her life away. A business deal... That was really all she was?
With the business end closed up, the men had a celebratory drink. One of the servants was sent to bring glasses and the decanter. The servant was just a child, dressed in an old little suit; probably made by his mother out of scraps. The boy had been one to think rather fondly of Aaricia, and looked at her sadly as he entered the room. Not watching where he was going, he tripped on the edge of a rug. The decanter tumbled and spilled its contents while one glass rolled under the couch and the other glass broke into pieces, a shard flying to cut the boy’s face.
Aaricia felt her heart clutch, but she didn’t move. What was the point?
Her father, however, did move. “You stupid brat!” he snarled. He stormed over and pulled the child upright by his shirt. “That whiskey was worth more than you are!”
Aaricia’s eyes lifted slowly, heart heavy as the boy fumbled out apologies. How cruel...
Dazhiq dropped the boy roughly to the ground. “Pick up every speck, or you’ll see what living on the street is like!” Then he turned to J’zara. “Forgive the little fool, my friend. The service industry provides such fickle workers at times.”
J’zara was staring at his feet silently. Slowly, the man plucked off the slipper he was wearing. “Not only does the boy waste a fine drink, but he also ruins another man’s slipper,” he mused slowly, focused on the damp shoe.
Aaricia sighed to herself. Ruined? It just needed a quick wash.
Dazhiq’s expression became quite somber. “You are an embarrassment, boy.” A big hand swung out, smacking the boy’s face hard. Then.. then he stepped back and invited the other man to do the same. Compensation for the shoe. J’zara was happy to take the opportunity, the boy crying from another hard smack.
Aaricia found herself on her feet. ...No. This would not be okay. “Stop, please. He did not do it on purpose,” she requested softly.
J’zara looked back at her with a scowl. “Did you not learn from last time that you don’t question your betters?” he huffed, the back of his hand striking Aaricia’s cheek.
Dazed, Aaricia touched a hand to her cheek. His ring had cut into her skin...
Dazhiq just sighed heavily. “You wanted her, my friend. I warned you that she might need a few more lessons.”
Lessons? Aaricia looked back, eyes widening when the damp shoe was used to smack the boy again. Lessons... Lessons.... The breaking point.. That line.. Everything building up under her passive mask... That mask breaking from the pressure... “You are the ones who need lessons!” she shrieked. The shocked expressions of the men were quite satisfying. One hand grabbed up a piece of broken glass, and she charged forward. No more.. She would not let them treat others like this any more...
While by no means physically strong, Aaricia was agile and quick. She shoved the glass deep into J’zara’s hand, satisfied to hear the howl of pain. Something hit her hard and she tumbled forward, but she looked back up at her father with fire in her eyes. “You cannot treat others that way!”
“No daughter of mine will speak to me that way!” Dazhiq snarled back, his large fists flying.
Aaricia dodged what she could, but she was no fighter. Passion and impulse had driven her to attack. Now.. now survival kicked into gear. She did not doubt that her father might accidentally kill her in his anger... Panting heavily, one arm dislocated and the shoulder and hanging loose, it was pure adrenaline that kept her upright. “I am not your property! No one is!”
Dazhiq charged forward, arms outstretched to strangle the girl, when his foot slipped on the spilled drink. He slid with a yelp, knocked unconscious when his head hit an end table. His pulse was still visibly throbbing in his neck and forehead as he splayed out on the floor.
Aaricia looked around in a daze. J’zara had fled after being stabbed, her father was unconscious... she was in so much pain.
“Miss Aaricia!” a voice gasped out.
Aaricia looked over at an older woman running toward her. The boy had gone for his mother. The older woman scooped Aaricia into her arms and turned away from the mess. The strong arms of the hard working woman held her firmly, and another feeling settled into her stomach. She should try to contact the Matorian she had met; the one with the group that could help her. ..There wasn’t time for that though. “I.. cannot stay..” she murmured.
The woman carrying her frowned and nodded. “No, you can’t, Miss Aaricia. Don’t you worry, my dear. I know a healer who can help you.”
Aaricia closed her eyes. “I bet.. I can be.. a rogue princess now,” she mused, earning a confused look from the woman. In her mind though, she could see it again. She could see herself being able to look out for others. She couldn’t help chuckling to herself, perhaps a little delirious from the pain by now. “Rogue Princess Aari,” she said with a tired smile. “Does that not sound nice?”
((Word Count: 1,633 ))
Conclusion: After living through years of being treated like an object rather than a daughter, and seeing others treated even worse, she has had enough. She is finally going to leave her father and do something that makes her happy; being a rogue princess! She wants to help others have better lives and to show that men like her father are not invincible. They are merely men who have far too much luxury on their hands. She doesn’t have an exact plan for what she’s going to do for herself, but she knows she wants to be someone that the unfortunate souls can depend on.
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Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 8:58 pm
Pickpocket- Journal entry 1
Creepy Crawlers World Event Link ((3 exp pnts ))
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Posted: Fri Oct 28, 2016 9:01 pm
Pickpocket - Journal entry 2
A New Day While she was still healing physically, the mental wounds were what kept her lying in the bed. This was the second time Aaricia’s life had been turned upside-down. This time though, it was mostly of her own doing. She had taken the board and flipped it completely. She had acted completely outside of her normal self. Shock kept her rooted to the bed.
She couldn’t have stood there while that poor boy was getting beaten for an accident though!
However, she had been about to let herself be essentially sold to a cruel man... Since when did she think so little of herself? Back in Zena, others had teased about selling her to get her strange skin away, but her mother had always been there to assure her that such a thing would not be allowed. Back in Zena, she had never faltered at being herself. It had been a long time since she had truly felt inferior, and her time with her father had sent her backward to that time. Backward to that depressing, self-hating state... Without her mother’s daily affirmations, she had easily tripped and tumbled down that old pit. How disgraceful.
Yet, now, here she was. ...and now what? She was lying in this bed, staring up at the same ceiling she’d been looking at for weeks now. She had gotten there through violence. She had attacked her father. She had attacked the man’s business associate. What she had done was utterly disrespectful and out of character for her. Completely unladylike!
They had deserved it though! That poor boy had not deserved such treatment! So.. why had she been set to the idea of being ‘sold’ as she had been about to be? Surely allowing herself to be given away in such a manner would have been disrespectful to herself... Who was she honoring by acting as an object? Her father? The man about to buy her? She certainly was not honoring herself. She was certainly not honoring her mother! She was not honoring Frik, who had fought for her. He had lost, but he had fought...
Aaricia thought about the Matorian man she had met once. The one who had agreed to seek out her mother and Frik. She wondered if he had heard anything. He would not be able to tell her anything now. Not unless she sought him and that group out. Now that she was free of her father, perhaps she could seek her mother for herself? She could just go back to Zena!
Back to Zena... It was such a tempting thought. However, it had not been Zena that had driven her to fight against her situation. It had been that little Matorian servant getting beaten for spilling a drink onto a slipper. It had been the pain on that little boy’s face. It had been the smug confidence on the faces of the men, and their utter disregard for the youngling’s life. Those were the things that had pushed her to fight back. They were the things that had pushed her to jam a piece of broken glass into a stranger’s hand. They were the things that had pushed her to talk back against her father so viciously. They were the things that had pushed her to leave the luxury of her father’s home. They were the things that had pushed Aaricia to realize that she could no longer sit idly by while others suffered at the hands of such entitled men.
On the same token, there was nothing she could do while lying in this bed.
Biting her lip, Aaricia pushed herself upright, hissing sharply as her sore muscles complained. She was not used to pain. She did not like it. She did not like feeling it or causing it. Pain was still fairly new to her. A simple bruise made her whole muscle ache! She could remember her father’s hand; the force of its impact had seemed to reverberate throughout her body. How did people get punched for a living without a problem?
Perhaps she could get used to the pain...?
The pain in her heart and mind was a different story. If her mother and Frik were alive, they would have to wait. She would seek out that group the young man had told her about, and find out if they had learned anything of the pair, but she could not go seeking her loved ones just yet.
Besides, she had just deprived her father of his most prized asset; herself. She had been the key to him keeping his business, and now she was gone. She had to keep an eye on him to make sure that her decision did not cause him to make others suffer. It was a certain side effect, but she had to accept the consequences of her actions. She was not about to return and become that diminutive daughter again, but having a strong and watchful daughter could perhaps do the man some good.
“Miss Aaricia! Are you well enough to be standing?”
Aaricia looked over as the servant woman from her father’s home hurried over to her side. “You are still here, Jydora? I thought you were going to take Halim to Matori now that you are free.”
The older Matorian sighed and smiled, guiding Aaricia back to sit on the bed. “I was, but Halim insists on staying here with you, Miss Aaricia. You’re his hero now, you know.” She looked to the hybrid and smiled. “Mine, as well. My son and I are free because of you. You probably saved my boy’s life. I am in your debt, Miss Aaricia.”
Aaricia blushed. She was no hero... Not in her eyes. Not yet, anyway. “Jydora, you saved my life as well. There is no debt to be paid. Still, I am glad to know you will be with me for a little longer, at least.” As she sat down, she looked at herself in the cracked, dirty mirror nearby. How she looked at herself was going to change. (( word count: 1,008 = 3 pnts ))
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Posted: Thu Aug 31, 2017 10:18 pm
Pickpocket - Journal entry 3
A New Lifestyle Living in the camp outside of Orrod was exhausting. Now that Aaricia was healed back up to normal, she was learning the ways of the independent community person. She was washing her own clothes, helping to prepare meals, watching the children, fixing up old clothes that had worn through, cleaning dishes, and so much more! Though a prisoner in her home with her father, she had been waited on by the servants like any Oban noble lady. She had never scrubbed a plate or washed a floor, nor fetched her own bath water. Her young years in Zena had been occupied with chores, but Oba had offered little responsibility of such a fashion. Life now required so much more, and the young hybrid went to bed tired and a little sore on a regular basis..
..and she loved it.
Every night, Aaricia could go to bed feeling good about what she had accomplished that day. There was no more sitting around for others to stare at. She was part of the community, and held up her share of the work. When she was free from chores, she would spend time training to be more efficient with her knives. Fewer cuts and bruises decorated her hands these days, and her smooth limbs had gained some definition under her dark skin. Her hands were rougher to feel, but still capable of being quite gentle. Her body was stronger, but still flexible and lean. Her mind was as tender as ever, but growing in maturity.
Here, she was accomplishing and helping and growing. She knew that she still had far to go, but Aari was able to feel a growing confidence in herself. She did not care to admit it, but leaving the comforts of the house had been a whim of a risk. Deep inside, in those first couple weeks of being bandaged and sore and hot, she had wondered if she would last on her own... However, she had quickly learned that she was never alone. Jydora, Halim, and everyone else in the ragtag community supported each other to their utmost abilities, and Aari felt that support more and more with the passage of time.
Something that she felt particular pride in was her contribution to sewing. Perhaps it was in part because it was the only connection she could remember with her mother, but she did truly enjoy the craft. Whether it was making a dress from scratch, or simply fixing a hole in the knee of a child’s pants, she was happy when she got to pull out her sewing supplies. It was a skill she was efficient at, and best at among her abilities. Back at the suffocating house, her father had provided a very nice sewing kit for her to use. Shining needles of many different sizes, thimbles, scissors, pins, measuring tape, and whatever else a craftsman might desire filled the cabinet bought specifically for storing the supplies. What she used currently was an incomplete hodgepodge of tools from various used kits, and it was more precious to her than any new set could have been.
Though she felt that her skills were limited, no one in the camp made her feel as though she was anything less than an equal contributor, and Aari worked hard to make sure she lived up to such faith. That was what they had all put in her; faith that she could do what she had set out to do.
When Aari walked through the sand, watching children wrestling and women carrying food and men bartering.. she felt like she was one of them. Zena had never felt this complete, and certainly neither had Oba. It was this crew that renewed her strength every single day when she woke up. Washing her own clothes? Fine. Preparing meals for many to share? Fulfilling. Seeing people who actually looked happy that she was around? Utterly joyous. Going to bed with the knowledge that she had been a benefit to herself and others? Inexpressibly priceless. (( word count: 671 = 2 pnts ))
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