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 Posted: Thu Oct 06, 2016 9:23 am
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I N T R O D U C T I O N x S O L O
The Institute
“Seziah, there’s someone here that wants to speak to you.”
From her position on the floor, before the living room coffee table, Seziah’s gray gaze tipped with slow deliberacy toward the door. Standing there, as her mother had said, was a bespectacled young woman. Hardly anyone ever came calling to their home, and certainly no one wanting to speak to a seven-year-old girl, of all people. The woman looked extremely unremarkable, as far as Sez could tell, but also unfamiliar. A fluttering niggling that Mother told her was called ‘curiosity’ entered the back of her mind, but she ignored it. Instead, her focus dipped back to the brown-toned bit of coloring chalk and the dull green leaves that served as her muse. “This one is lumpy in the middle,” she explained, sliding the foliage toward the center of the table, “But this one is perfect and straight-”
Inala’s tone deepened, hitting that low note that Sez attributed to ‘impatience.’ Which seemed irrelevant. Were they running short on time? “This nice woman has traveled a long way, and it would be-”
“What if I do not want to speak to her?” She lightly rubbed the tip of her coloring utensil against the paper, carefully tracing the outer edge of the ‘perfect’ leaf.
“-rude and unacceptable. Invite Miss Cyna to sit with you, please.” Inala stepped from the doorway, and off to the side, allowing the woman past the threshold and into the house. The stranger smiled, laced her fingers before her, and waited patiently.
Seziah’s first glance at the woman landed on the almost silken-looking traveling shoes, and rose slowly from there. The bottom of her patterned dress, to the sash about her waist, up to the top hem framing her bosom, toward her face, and- Dropped immediately again. “Please sit with me,” Sez offered flatly.
The two women took up posts across from her. The stranger folded herself neatly down to the ground, tucking the end of the dress beneath her knees and faced Seziah fully. Inala hunched, propping an elbow on the table and angling her body to be receptive to both Cyna and her daughter. They looked peculiar and out-of-place next to each other, and Sez’s eyes warred with the need to both see them and not. Cyna, Mother, table. Cyna, Mother, table. When they started speaking, it was easier to just pay attention to her leaves.
The woman, apparently a young priestess from Pajore, asked many things. She asked what Seziah did during the day, questioned her about her friends, queried over dreams she had, wondered what she wanted to be when she grew up. There were easier questions too, interspersed around the more lengthy ones. What did she have for breakfast, how old was she, how did she spell her name. These were all fine. The woman was apparently also very curious and quite smiley too. She must be the overly friendly type. There was a brief interim in which her mother departed toward the back of their home, and the woman asked, “What are you afraid of?”
“Bugs,” Seziah answered, letting her eyes wander down the swirling pattern on the woman’s chest. “They live in pillows, climb into your ears, and eat their way out through your eyeballs. I look for them every night.”
Cyna’s lip twitched, her eyelids pinched, and her smile broadened. “Have you found any before?”
“No. Mother says they live in Daddy’s pillows, and his eyeballs are too tough to eat through, so they get trapped in his brain, and that’s why he’s such an idiot. But that sounds worse to me. I wanted to look through Daddy’s pillows, to make sure there weren’t more. So maybe the ones already in him will die and he can get better, but he said I was full of nonsense. And there was nothing in his pillows. And I better not touch them because I might ruin them. I don’t want to ruin Daddy’s pillows, but I wouldn’t, if I touched them. I just want to make sure there aren’t more. So he can get better. Mother wanted me to do nice things for people. That’s a nice thing, to help people get better.”
The woman chuckled, the soft, reverberating kind some adults made when she spoke to them. Seziah wanted to correct her- it wasn’t funny. She was serious. You shouldn’t laugh at unwell people, like her father. It was rude. But Inala made her reappearance before she had the chance. In her hands, layered atop each other, were several of Seziah’s sand pictures.
Seziah’s attention immediately caught and held on the slips of parchment. “Mother, those are mine. You said you wouldn’t-”
Inala dropped her findings to the table in front of the priestess, Sez’s teeth clicked shut, and together, the two older females began sorting through them. “After Seziah wakes up in the morning, she uses the sand we buy her, and puts her dreams on these papers. What do you say it is, Sez? ‘The light and the shadows-’”
Seziah sucked in a breath, and the words tumbled out in a quiet and monotonous, but quick rush. “Tight, h-heavy, small, my heart beats so fast. Bad.”
Cyna’s smile vanished. Her eyes widened a fraction, and she reached, fingertips almost spanning across the table, close enough to touch, before Sez reeled back and away, face still passive, despite her words.
“We’re practicing describing our feelings,” Inala explained, hurriedly assuring the priestess that her daughter wasn’t in any actual pain. “So that we can better understand each other.” Her focus shifted to the young girl. “You’re excited.”
“Excited is supposed to be good. They aren’t finished. I don’t have red. Those are mine. You said no one would-” She slid her hands across the table, lightly touching the edges of the nearest picture in an effort to reclaim it back to herself, out from under the scrutinization of the stranger woman.
“She’s very passionate about them,” Inala went, “And I think it means something unusual, even if maybe nothing important…”
“Please, don’t touch-” They ignored her, spoke among themselves, with Cyna only occasionally glancing back to the youngest female. Seziah, of course, couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything but the parchment, and the way these people’s fingers managed to smear through the delicately plastered sands, rubbing tiny particles off kilter and ruining everything. They paid her quiet protests no mind, and she was supposed to let people know if they were doing something she didn’t like. That was proper, anyway.
“Those are mine!” Seziah snapped, tone hitting such a high octave that she could feel it echoing against her ears. She slammed her hand down over the piece her mother was holding. The parchment shredded right down the middle, and both women immediately turned to stare at her. Despite the pitch of her voice, Seziah managed to look surprisingly passive. Not red-faced, not wide-eyed. It might have been imagined that she’d yelled at all. Sez stood then, collected all but the ripped of her collection, and fled to her room with all due haste. She did not want to speak with them, anymore. They didn’t listen, anyway.
But apparently, the two women weren’t done with their own discussion. Sez didn’t know what exactly was being said beyond her closed door, but she could hear their quiet mutters.
Afterwards, Cyna apologized (through the barrier of Seziah’s door) for ripping her art, and asked if she could make it up to the young girl. She told Sez of a place she knew, back in Pajore, that had many beautiful leaves for her to trace and a room she could call her own, and other youngsters like herself that she would like very much, if she gave them a chance. Everyone was very friendly and would take good care of her, but she would have to move away from home, perhaps even for a long time.
Seziah’s gaze pinned to the crack beneath her door, where she could see the shadow from how closely the woman was standing. “Mother invited you,” she stated matter-of factly. “She wants me to move away, and she wants you to take me.”
There was a pause before a whisper ran between the two females out of Sez’s vision. “We think you’ll like it,” Cyna agreed softly. “And there are clean pillows with no bugs in them.”
Seziah highly doubted that, but this, at least, was a fixable flaw. What seemed more important was that her mother had called this woman to take her away. Inala didn’t want her, anymore. She could refuse and stay behind, but that was rude, to intentionally do something someone else didn’t want. She cracked open the door, stared at Cyna’s knees, and gave a short, clipped nod. “If you and Mother think it’s best.”
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Results: Seziah's mother and her special friend from Pajore conspire to send her away.
Word Count: 1471 |
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Posted: Thu Oct 20, 2016 2:15 pm
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D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
The Others
There were others in the special home the strange woman from Pajore sent her to. She'd said there would be, but at the time, Seziah hadn't given it much thought. Her parents were others. They stayed in her house with her, and she only sometimes took issue with them, so 'others' seemed manageable, as long as there weren't too many. The Pajore woman had also called them 'youngsters like her.'
There were more of them than the two housemates she was used to. And these people were not like her. Most of them weren't even young!
That woman was a liar, and Sez disliked her the instant she discovered such was the case.
She was still on the fence about these 'others,' though. There was a very tall, very large man that Seziah would've had to break her neck to peer up at if she was very keen on looking at other people's faces. He had many blue tattoos and unfathomably black eyes. Despite his size (which Sez was immediately wary of, in her young age), he never bothered her, never spoke to her, never did anything. He watched, silently and unobtrusively. Even after two years in her new home, Seziah still didn't know his actual name. But she supposed no one did. Everyone called him Smudge. She sat several arm-lengths away from him at the home's long, wooden dinner table and quietly 'helped' him observe the rest of the others.
Across from her sat a woman twice Seziah's age. She had very short hair and tiny, sparkly crystals that looked like freckles. She'd wrapped herself in a blanket and was plucking individual cracker crumbs from her plate before apologizing to them each and popping them into her mouth. Her name was Mackell, and she was alright. She spoke in such low, quiet tones that Seziah didn't often understand her, but Mack smiled every time Sez peered at her face. She wasn't often cross.
Mack's special male friend was hardly older than Mackell herself. He sat next to her and was quite vocal. Seziah was significantly less enthused about him. There were a great many things he disliked, like certain vegetables in his salad and the amount of sun that came in through the windows and how high his chair was from the ground and the disruptive pattern on the rug. Seziah didn't think she'd ever heard anything positive from Devello Ducoix's mouth. If he became very angry or upset, he'd throw things and hit people. Never Mackell, of course.
But once she'd seen him break the handle off a mug from cracking it over Litanu's head. Which suited Seziah just fine, as she didn't like him very much either. He made very ugly expressions and often informed them that he wasn't supposed to be there. "As soon as Granny's gone, you're all as good as dead," he'd say.
It was a peculiar thing for him to say, in Seziah's mind. Did he want Granny to leave? Why would he? The old woman was rickety and frail, yes, but so perfectly sweet to everyone.
She owned the institute and always tried very hard to cater to her 'friends' needs. She made dinner, brought them clean clothes, organized activities, and smiled very often. Litanu was apparently her son (or grandson? She was quite old, so Seziah wasn't sure which), and unlike everyone else, the two of them had rooms on the upper deck of the complex.
Occasionally, Sez would see Sami sneaking up there too, but she was always asked not to tell Granny. Sami greeted people by biting them, so Seziah did her best to avoid the girl at all costs and seldom wanted to do anything to upset her.
Lastly, and almost forgettable concerning how often Seziah saw him, was a little boy with the most ashen, ill-looking face she had ever seen. He didn't often wander from Granny's side, but when he did, he only stood there, silently, like a little ghost.
She thought perhaps he really was dead, since hardly anyone paid him any mind when he was present. Just a pale-faced little shadow of a boy, younger than Seziah, and with unnervingly giant eyeballs. No one ever spoke to him, and she didn't want to seem out of place by being the first. Even Granny didn't say much to him when he held the end of her long over shirt and trailed after her. He didn't speak, but he liked to touch people. Another reason for Seziah to not start a conversation with him. She wouldn't appreciate being touched by dirty little boy fingers.
As Granny shuffled around the table to collect the group's used dishes, Sez glanced between the strange assortment of people. 'One two three...' She counted silently in her head. 'Seven.'
Seven was too many others for her liking.
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Results: There are too many others.
Word Count: 806 |
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Posted: Mon Dec 19, 2016 12:44 pm
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D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
The Gifts
It wasn't very often that Seziah saw her parents. They came around perhaps twice a year, spoke to Granny for a few minutes, then took their daughter out for about an hour to roam around town in the sunshine. It was unpleasant, and she told them so, but they insisted upon it all the same. When she'd reminded them once more (they were really very forgetful people, apparently) that she didn't like to be out in Pajore's market crowd, her father had responded by saying that they didn't want to be around Seziah's housemates.
An understandable concern, and one she couldn't even disagree with, herself. Seziah tried to stick to her room as often as possible, so as not to engage the Others.
So, the couple came to Pajore to walk with her for an hour. It seemed a pointless ritual, and Sez had no idea who was supposed to glean enjoyment out of it. Perhaps her mother. She at least had questions to ask, though they were the same each time. 'How are you doing? Do you need anything? Are they treating you well? Did that girl bite you again? This one looks new!' Sami was not one to be avoided indefinitely, try as Seziah might.
She told them she was normal, repeatedly informed them that she needed new linens because these were not to be trusted, and reminded them that the Others were not often the most gentle of people. Why would they even ask how she was being treated when her mother continuously pointed out Sami's bite marks on her arms! Obviously circumstances could be better.
But she'd only complained about it during their very first visit. She'd said she preferred where she used to live and the security of her old room and the quiet forests surrounding their house.
Seziah hadn't been able to decipher the look her mother sent her after that. Brows knit, glassy-eyed, and fingers up to her lips like she was trying to keep something in. Inala had spun away from her so quickly that Seziah was certain she wasn't meant to see it. Her mother had departed quickly, but Tidan remained behind. He'd replied that she couldn't come home. It'd be bad for his wife. The words were on the tip of Sez' tongue. It was bad for her here. But she didn't get the chance to say them.
Instead, Tidan had promised to send her things to make it better, so long as she never told her mother she wanted to go home again. Seziah did like things. And he told her she would only need to stay until she was sixteen. That was all. Just sixteen, he iterated. Then she could move closer to home and live by herself, like she wanted.
They weren't entirely disagreeable circumstances, so Seziah agreed.
She only saw her parents twice a year, but in lieu of their actual presence and for her continued patience with the Others, they sent her gifts about once a week. They were very small and very easy to keep to herself: jars of ink, containers of sand and seashells, rolled pieces of parchment with pictures on them, wrapped candies. On her birthday, they were a bit bigger: earrings, a new pillowcase, a ceramic jar and seed pouch, a book.
Not that she knew how to read it, or anything. No one had ever taught her. But it was hers, and she would never let anyone touch it. One day, once she was sixteen and living on her own, she would have peace to learn anything she wanted to.
In the meantime, most of the young Yaeli's focus was dedicated to a healthy wariness inspired by her peers. It didn't take long for Seziah to realize that she wasn't the only one who liked things.
Granny used to hand out packages once a week, but by the time Seziah was fourteen, the frequency had dropped to about once a month. In Granny's old age, even walking across town to the post was a tiring and achy experience, or so she said. Apparently, her eyes were going too.
"Sami, dear, here you are, from your brother, I think?" Came the cracked, gravely sound of the old woman's voice through their common room. Seziah was familiar with Sami's gifts, rolled greens that had a not-unpleasant smell when they were burned. He sent matches too, but Granny confiscated those almost immediately. Sez decided not to question how Sami lit the little sticks without them.
This was a normal occurrence, and wouldn't have usually been something worth giving her attention to. Seziah couldn't explain why she glanced Sami's way as the package was handed over, but as soon as her glowing irises caught sight of it, a gurgling bubble of malcontent burst in her abdomen. "No," she asserted firmly as she moved from the table and toward the other girl. "That one is mine. Look." She pointed to the untidily print of her mother's scrawl on the brown parchment. "This is my name." Even if she couldn't read, after the past several years of looking at her mother's handwriting, Seziah knew which symbols made up her name.
Sami jerked the package from beneath Seziah's finger. Her eyes narrowed, and her bottom lip jut out. When she spoke, her voice was high, "Granny gave it to me. You've got others. Don't take my stuff! That's rude! You're rude!"
"But it is mine," Seziah tried to reason, reaching for her package once more.
The result was an ear shattering wail from the other girl, coupled with a violent swipe of her nails that tangled roughly into and yanked at Seziah's thick mane of curls. It stung and had the unfortunate happenstance of catching her off guard. Sez sucked in a breath and bit her tongue as she staggered into the pull, and she blindly flailed out to knock Sami's arm away from her.
When she made even the slightest contact, the other girl threw herself to the ground like she'd been violently struck.
"Girls!"
Seziah's gaze flew up toward where Granny stood, then rapidly darted back to the ground. She slipped a pace back and her thin fingers bunched into either of her pant legs. "She has my-"
"I don't!"
"Please, girls, please, please!" Granny stepped between them. Sez's shoulders hunched. "Your parents sent you a few things, didn't they Seziah? Sami only wants to look, hm? She'll be very careful, and you'll get it back soon."
Few things were of greater injustice, she was sure, but her throat was so tight from this overwhelming sense of betrayal that she could scarcely find her voice to argue. It was hers. Granny knew. Had she known when she'd first handed it over? Seziah couldn't say, but at this moment, it felt like she had. Sami was mean and rough, and she would break- But Seziah swallowed. She wouldn't agree, ever, but as the older girl grinned madly and fled hastily toward the hallway, Sez didn't think it would matter.
Her face felt hot, her body too tense, nails biting into her palm. No one listened to her. She couldn't make it two whole more years.
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Results: There are many things Sez doesn't lke about her home, but the people are the worst.
Word Count: 1199 |
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Posted: Mon Dec 26, 2016 8:17 am
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D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
The Routine
"When is the last time you brushed this rat's nest, Seziah?" Granny demanded as she struggled to get a comb through her young charge's sopping, wild, plum-colored mane.
Seziah herself was blissfully oblivious to the struggle. She sat perched on a stool before the old woman, lashes dipped, head bowed and bobbing slightly to the as-of-yet irregular strokes of the comb at her back. For the most part, Sez preferred to keep to herself. She fancied that she didn't need as much help as some of the Others, and strongly doubted she needed to be watched as closely, either. But this was one of very few welcome points of contact. She enjoyed the rhythm of it (once her tangles were banished and one was established), and rather expected it after bathing, besides.
"Mm, it was last time you did it," she offered plainly, as she pinched the end of her towel more snugly to her chest. Her towel, mind you. A pretty slate-grey thing with no stray strings hanging off the edges. Many things about bath days were enjoyable.
Due to the lack of running water, number of people in the home, and an apparent need for supervision, baths were an every fourth day commodity. Which Sez thought was a real shame, because some of the others were very smelly (unlike her. She had her own coconut-eucalyptus soap too. While she disagreed with her parents on a wide array of fronts, they did provide nice, useful gifts). But the Others complained that they didn't need it, and the water was lukewarm, and they would only get dirty again, anyway.
They didn't know what they were talking about. If it was up to her, she'd do this every day.
"That was days ago, you silly girl," Granny quipped, lightly tapping the comb to Sez's bare shoulder in some form of admonishment. "You should do it yourself at least once a day- twice, if you want it to be an easy process."
That would make it far less enjoyable, so Seziah said so. "I am not interested," she retorted. "It takes too long when I do it, and it makes my arm hurt from reaching back there so far. I don't want my arm to hurt, and I like it when you do it. My mother-"
"I thought you wanted to live by yourself."
Sez's lashes flicked open, and she blinked down quizzically at the floor between her feet. She did want to live by herself, in two years. That hardly seemed relevant to her time now. So she ignored Granny's words and went on with what she'd been about to say previously. Or tried. "My mother used to brush it like this. She told me it was very pretty, and that I was-"
When Granny interrupted again (rude woman), it earned a soft huff from Seziah and a quick glance over her shoulder at the old lady before she hunkered back into position. "No one will be around to do this for you when you live alone. It'll be up to you to take care of yourself. If you can't even brush your own hair, how are you going to cook? Or do laundry? And you'll need to find work, of course, if you can manage it, to supply yourself with food and clothing and those nice presents you like so much." Sez's shoulders hunched, and she sank a little closer to the floor. "Little girls have no place being alone in the forest, particularly when they are dependent upon others for their care."
Admittedly, Seziah was significantly less interested in vocalizing her thoughts now. She didn't think it mattered too much what she would have to do once she was out of here. Furthermore, it didn't have anything to do with anyone else, so Granny shouldn't be trying to stick her nose in it. She rolled her shoulders, and went back to her previous train of thought. "My mother used to brush it for me when I was very little. She said I had such beautiful hair, and that I was 'such a pretty girl.' She liked it. So I like it. And I liked it when she brushed it. You are not her, but it feels kind of similar."
Then came the silence. They were quiet for several long minutes, with only the soft sounds of Granny's comb slipping easier and easier with each pass through Seziah's curls. In that interim, the young Yaeli edged slowly back toward relaxation. She didn't really want the chatter, after all, only the motion of it.
"If you aren't going to do it yourself, you could at least cut it. It'll be easier for you to brush, and won't make you 'arm hurt' as much."
"No," the word was past Seziah's lips nearly before Granny had finished speaking. "I like it like this. It would not be the same if I cut it. I want it to be the same." And she really wished Granny would stop imposing what she thought were good ideas onto Sez. If she wanted something she would ask for it. She did not want all this advice or a haircut.
"Then you're finished," Granny muttered, taping Sez between the shoulder blades as permission for her to move. "Go on to your room and get dressed." Seziah stood, adjusted her towel around herself, and moved to leave. "But I suggest you start thinking about how you're going to live once you leave here. It isn't easy, Seziah, and I only say this to you out of concern for your well-being."
To Seziah, it sounded like a great many things she didn't want to hear. She scurried from the room, down the hall, and to the safety and silence of her own bedroom. She could decide on the future when the future came. It wasn't relevant now.
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Results: Seziah realizes she doesn't really know how to live by herself, but it's a problem she doesn't want to deal with.
Word Count: 977 |
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Posted: Mon Dec 26, 2016 8:38 am
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W O R L D x E V E N T x R E F L E C T I O NCreepy Crawlers
I do not like bugs. They are not cute. They are not soft. They are not warm. They spend their whole lives scuttling through the dirt until they are so weak that a gust of wind can knock them over, and they die. This is not a pleasant life, but bugs are not pleasant creatures, and somehow one of them found itself inside of my bedroom. My bedroom is the last place a bug should be.
I check for them. I check for bugs in my pillows every night, and I have never found one. I am a good roommate. I keep my area clean, and so there are no bugs because I do not like them, and they are not pleasant.
This one did not belong here. It is not even from these lands, and I am not so stupid to think it came to be in my chambers of its own power. I bet Sami put it there. She laughed very hard when I saw it. It was huge and ugly, and I could not remove it on my own... So Granny invited Kieran to remove it for me. He is a strange fellow, and he did not seem as afraid of it as I was. He even said he was going to keep it. I do not know why. It could not do him any good. But as long as it is not my problem, he may do as he wishes. I will not likely see him again.
I do not see very many people more than once...
Results: Met Kieran and his new bug pet.
PRP Posts: 7
JR Word Count: 261 |
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Posted: Tue Dec 27, 2016 10:41 am
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C L A S S x A F F I N I T Y x S O L O
The First
On days when the sun was out and the majority of her charges seemed amenable to it, Granny would allow her group of misfits out into the yard for a dose of fresh air and a few of the more outside-oriented activities. The old woman liked to see them play big, rambunctious team games, but most everyone seemed to prefer to stick to their own groups, if they could help it.
Mackell and Devello practiced weaving together. The Yaeli woman would take long stems of flowers and grass, lace them together, then place them on various parts of her companion's body. Sometimes she'd ask Smudge if he'd seen anything pretty enough to use, and he'd very helpfully point her in the right direction. Devello would complain that some of her pieces looked lopsided or they were itchy, but he thanked her all the same. He preferred to just place the single most beautiful flower on her, rather than go to all the trouble of weaving.
For all her uncertainties, Seziah thought the whole scene was rather adorable, and on rare occasions, she found it in herself to join them (she wanted nice things that someone made for her). Mackell never said she couldn't. On those days, the older woman would gift Sez with many weavings too.
Today, though, she decided against joining them. Last time she had, Mackell had lost so many flowers in Seziah's hair that she'd been picking dead bits of foliage from it for a week. Very unappealing.
Granny's Little Shadow had adopted use of the dirt pathway. He wielded a stick a scratched scribbley squiggles into the earth. This didn't keep him from leaving the old woman's side, mind you. She stood forever nearby, reading a book and distractedly commending him on his efforts anytime he paused to look at her. He never much bothered anyone else.
On a good day, Sami and Litanu would skirt around the edge of the home and disappear from immediate sight. If it was quiet for too long, Granny would have to check and make sure they hadn't fled past the fence line, but usually Sami was loud enough for everyone to know she was still around. Seziah had had the misfortune of seeing what was going on back there once. It reminded her almost of the times she'd seen her mother kiss her father when she was younger.
But that looked 'cute' and polite.
Sami and Litanu didn't 'kiss.' They just did sloppy mouth things that all looked very unappealing and disgusting. There really wasn't much telling which was the 'normal' route, whether it was the one set forth by her parents, or whatever was going on between these two, but it likely didn't matter, anyway. It wasn't like Sez was going off and kissing people. But in some small and generally silent corner of her mind, she really did hope that this, like most other things, was just something Sami wasn't doing right.
This, however, was not a 'good day.' Apparently Litanu's assertions that he 'wasn't like them' and 'wasn't supposed to be here' rang with some truth. Because he, unlike everyone else, did not have to remain at the home. Granny would let him roam about the city as he pleased, which meant he wouldn't be around to keep Sami occupied.
There were few good days when Sami was unoccupied.
But Sez especially hated those days that involved outside time. Because while she generally did enjoy the sun and flowers and occasional waft of bakery and tavern food from inside the city, the outside did not have doors. It was difficult to avoid Sami without the ability to put a closed door between them. Which truly was horrible, because the Yaeli girl's favorite outside game (when Litanu was unavailable) happened to be the one she called, 'I hit you, and I win.' It was generally played with a dirt clod or a stick and was about as pleasant as it sounded.
Seziah was infrequently prepared for the game when they played, but she'd come to expect that Sami would usually at least have the decency to remind her that the game was on before going about it.
So as Sez sat, facing Mackell's flower bush and arranging a small selection of tree leaves into the clean, white pages of one of her more recent gifts, she didn't fear for her safety and well-being. In this moment, there didn't seem to be much reason to. Everything sounded normal and peaceful, with only the commentary from various parts of the yard invading otherwise normal outside noises.
In the next moment, Seziah's entire body lurched forward with some unseen force and a sharp piercing sound ripped itself from her throat. She couldn't explain why black had suddenly overtaken her vision or why the grass was tickling her face or why some unholy combination of pain and heat blossomed like a blaze set to dry leaves. But she was dizzy and hurt and quite alarmed that whatever ailment had befallen her could come on so quick-
"I win!"
The call was strangely faint, due to this obnoxious ringing in her ears, but she at least heard it and understood, despite the blinding lack of clarity everywhere else. Seziah whined softly, fingers pinching and scraping over the grass in an effort to find what had done this. She edged slowly upward, leaning forward on her elbows and eyeing the fist-sized brown and red rock at her side.
Oh. She touched it. At least red was a pretty color. She fumbled it over in the grass, and was just vaguely aware the it was leaving red marks along the green fronds as well.
Something dripped to her neck, wet, hot, and deeply unwelcome.
A lance of fear shot through her chest, and an unfairly more strong prickle of pain went across the back of her scalp. And she knew, despite the dizzy uncertainty still rippling through her mind, what she would find. But some instinctual force compelled her to reach back and touch it, anyway. The sting of her fingers meeting her skin ought to have been warning enough, but when she pulled it back to peer at her hand, just to be certain-
Seziah screamed, hard enough and loud enough that everything else happening in the yard promptly ceased. She folded both of her hands across the back of her head, dropped herself flat to the earth, and continued shrieking out the injustice and pain and confusion of the world until Granny was at her side.
"Seziah, stop that. Stop that. You are not dying, girl, let me see. Move your hands." Her impulse was to resist. She didn't like hands on her normally, and they were especially unwelcome now, as Granny gripped her wrists in her weak little fingers and tried to pry the squirming girl's limbs out of the way. "Be still, so I can help you. Seziah, your hands-"
Sez whined in protest, but allowed the old woman to inspect first her palms, splotched in red but otherwise unharmed, then her head. Her hair was its usual wild tangle, made worse by Seziah's frenzied scrabbling and the sticky ooze of blood leaking from her scalp. It felt like it must horrible, like it was surely the worst assault she'd ever suffered. The stinging had mostly receded in her panic, but she could still feel her hair clinging to her and her hands were vile looking, and-
Granny plucked lightly at the roots of her hair, delicately shifting them about to inspect the source of the damage.
"You aren't bleeding anymore," she assured in her scratchy, muted tone. "You are a mess, for sure, but..."
Seziah blinked. She shot the old woman a quick look over her shoulder, then shakily reached back to brush her fingers against the admittedly still-sensitive, but otherwise unmarred spot at the back of her head. She swallowed and wondered if that was a peculiar, unwanted thing about her too. "It... is gone," Sez muttered in quiet agreement.
"I thought I saw something peculiar," There, she said it. Sez frowned, but didn't point it out. "when I rushed over, but... What a wonderful gift. You are a healer, Seziah."
x
x
Results: Sez's magic springs forth.
Word Count: 1373 |
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Posted: Tue Dec 27, 2016 12:28 pm
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D E V E L O P M E N T A L x S O L O
The Details
"I have a... going away present for you, Seziah."
This, on its own, merited very little thought, as far as Seziah was concerned. She knew she liked presents. She knew that she herself was planning on leaving in hardly more than a year's time, so a 'going away present' sounded like a great many wonderful things bundled up into three words. Her expression didn't betray her excitement, but the quick spill of words from her lips probably did. "That is very nice of you. May I have it?"
The corner of Granny's thin lips quirked upward, and she brushed a hand down the back of Sez' hair. "It isn't really a giving gift, I'm afraid, and no, you can't have it yet. Bit it is a very special gift, and it will require some doing on your part."
"Oh." It sounded much less pleasant when put like that. But so long as it was a gift from someone else, she couldn't really say she wasn't interested. "But I can know what it is?"
"I wouldn't tell you otherwise, would I?" That seemed fair, so Seziah nodded along with the old woman's explanation and waited patiently for that raspy voice to continue. "I have asked a good friend of mine for a favor, you see. In a week's time, he will come here, pick you up, and take you into town. He is a practiced and knowledgeable healer, and he has graciously agreed to let you spend some time with him, so that you may learn as well. But he is an impatient man, and if you don't learn quickly-"
"Oh." It sounded less pleasant now. And decidedly not like something she'd want as a gift. Because it sounded, to her, like some stranger was going to come and take her away from her home again. And this was not something of any great interest. She frowned, pointedly, so that Granny would see.
The old woman scoffed quietly. "Don't interrupt. And don't frown. This will be very good for you. He's going to bring you back, silly girl. I would never ask any of my friends to keep you indefinitely." She sighed. "He will bring you back the next day, and if you are a very helpful intelligent girl, he will pick you up again the next week. But you must do your very best to learn from him. Wear your nicest clothes. Be on your best behavior. Listen to all of his instructions. This is how you grow a future, Seziah, and this is the only chance I can give you. Please don't waste it."
It all still sounded very unpleasant to her. She didn't want to be taken to a strange place by a strange man and asked to do non-routine things. Particularly when she very much doubted she could be of use to a healer.
Granny was going to be so disappointed, she was sure...
x
x
Results: Someone is going away.
Word Count: 487 |
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Posted: Thu Dec 29, 2016 3:15 pm
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G R O W T H x S O L O
The Goodbye
When she'd had that conversation with Granny, the one about a 'goodbye present,' Seziah had thought very little about what the words actually meant. So rarely was there any change in her home. She had her routine, the Others had theirs, and they could all follow it. Day in and day out. Sez didn't mind the pattern. She might even say she preferred it, because while she didn't dislike new things and spontaneity and had her own plans for change, she found she was often ill-prepared for changes made by someone else. And large changes that she was ill-prepared for where not often well met.
"You... are leaving." Seziah demanded quietly, as she stood on the stone steps outside her home's entryway. Granny stood just slightly further down the pathway, instructing her much younger bag handler and escort to be careful with her things.
She wobbled back nearer to Sez, as the younger female stared pointedly at the old woman's knees. "I've told you I was. I've told everyone I was," she replied firmly. "It won't be so different, Seziah. You'll-"
'It won't be so different.' If that wasn't the most foolish thing she'd ever heard. "You cook my food and wash my laundry and buy everything from the market. How will it not be different? I am inclined to think it will be very different. I would prefer you stay. Why would you want to go anywhere else? This is your home. You live here." She tried to be reasonable. She always tried to be reasonable.
But the sound Granny made had the impatient undercurrent of annoyance. It was that puffy-air sound she made when she repeated herself many times. A frown dragged to Seziah's face, and she aimed it at the stone beneath her feet. "Child, please. These weak knees can't keep up with all that needs to be done here, anymore. I'm too old to be preparing all these meals and washing all your knickers. The market is too far of a walk. I can't make it up the stairs to my bed anymore, without nearly falling over." Her expression softened, though Seziah wasn't look up to see it. She brushed a hand lightly across Sez's elbow, in what the young female had to assume was reassurance. "This is what's best for me."
Seziah's hands curled in the thin fabric of her dress. "What about what is best for me? I like clean knickers and food, and if you were going to leave, you ought to have at least let me learn to do those things, but I do not know how, and how can I learn if you are not here? I have never cooked with the fire, and I am not allowed to go into market. You are supposed to take care of me. That is what my daddy said. You cannot leave."
"You're being selfish, Seziah. Litanu will-"
"You are being selfish," she retorted briskly, then abruptly turned to take her leave. Like many of her attempts at being reasonable, this one also seemed fraught with failure. No one ever understood her perspective.
Granny departed not an hour later. She assured that she wasn't moving far, only deeper into town so there would be less travel involved when she needed to shop, and to someplace where her bed would be on the ground level. She promised she would visit as often as her knees would allow, and reminded them all that they were still in good hands, with Litanu around. The Others took it much better than Seziah.
Except for Granny's Shadow boy, who'd been locked in his room due to the immediate wailing at her absence.
Sez wondered if she would stay if they all howled like that. She doubted she would get the support she needed to test the theory. Because Smudge seemed as impassive as ever. Mack and Devello had each other; they didn't need Granny. And Sami was far too delighted to start crying. She said as much to Seziah's face and told her the place would be much better now, with Litanu supervising them.
She'd never realized that was why he was there. Not because he was 'different,' like them, but so that Granny could teach him how to care for her poor, unloved, helpless charges. He was certainly much younger than her, and he did things in an unacceptably brisk and careless pace.
It was after being served a meal in which all of her foods were touching each other (making everything entirely inedible), that Seziah decided to attempt reason once more before he had the chance to stride by her. "Granny always made sure to arrange everything how I like it. Your presentation is sloppy, and everything is mixed together. I cannot eat this."
He shot her the quickest of glances- brief, cutting, and probably surprised that she'd said anything to him at all. Litanu continued ahead. "Then starve."
Unacceptable. She wanted to eat. So Seziah stood, and boldly trailed after him. "Granny would have done it again properly," she asserted, willing him to understand that she couldn't just not eat.
Litanu stalled in his steps and whipped around so quick that when Seziah tried to back peddle, she nearly toppled over. The Yaeli man took a step toward her, and on impulse, Sez lurched away. He caught her chin, dragged her gaze up, and hissed in her face, "Is she here?"
Tension rippled the length of Seziah's frame. She was neither fond of Litanu, nor his proximity, and he did know that. He had to have. They'd lived together for eight years now. There was a brief second where she couldn't convince her tongue to work, frozen as stiff as the rest of her posture, then, "No."
He released her, and she staggered back to find support against the wall. She dusted a hand down her face, trying to free herself of the feeling of fingers there. "Then I don't care what she would've done or what you want. If you don't like it, don't eat." He turned to move away, but seemed to decide better of it the next second, because he rounded on her again. "Do you know why Granny left?"
"Because of her knees and the stairs-"
"Because she is tired of dealing with people like you," Litanu informed her. "There is only so much of your needs and your wants that an old woman can handle, and you drove her to her limit. Imagine that. Does it not strike you as peculiar how no one can stand to live with you for a few years? I mean, this isn't really the first time you've been left behind, is it? No one likes you, Seziah." She twitched. "No one needs you, and in the end, that's what it comes down to. You're just worthless."
He left, then, and it was really all Seziah could do to lean against her wall and blink at the spot Litanu had once occupied. She couldn't explain the erratic, stinging pace of her heart, or the tight pain in her chest, or the shortness of her breath. What she did know was that she had been left behind, and the people who had left her had each said it was 'good for them.' So was that really what it came down to...? She slid, slipping down the wall into a huddled sit, knees pulled to her chest.
Was she worthless?
x
x
Results: Seziah's had a tough time of things, and that's not likely to change anytime soon. Up to this point, she's considered it mostly circumstantial, not really anyone's fault, and just unchangeably how things are. She is extremely selfish and very much in need of guidance, but she's never considered that her existence has ever put any undue strain on anyone.
So she realizes that she isn't functional alone (though her place in the home has never given her much opportunity to improve), as has been hinted at before. She'll start questioning who she is as a person and what she'll want to be able to do for herself. It also marks a change in her life that she isn't going to be receiving the same type of care she's used to and will have to adapt to new circumstances, despite her distaste for it.
Word Count: 1242 |
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Posted: Sun Jan 08, 2017 8:45 am
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Posted: Mon Jan 16, 2017 6:31 am
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Posted: Wed Jan 25, 2017 6:49 am
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2017 7:38 am
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