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 Posted: Sat Jul 11, 2020 6:26 pm
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2020 6:21 pm
Some Things Don't Change
Class Choice Solo Eslae had known most of her life what her future had in store for her. Her parents were both educators, both in the sector of knowledge and her family had been from the sector of knowledge for as far back as she knew. It wasn’t unusual for her to have geared up to also be an educator. But now that she was older, she had to decide what exactly that meant for her. She was coming of age, and soon she wouldn’t be considered under her parents’ care. In truth, she hadn’t been for almost three years since she had left home. She hadn’t so much as spoken to them for at least the last two. And these things made her question herself and her path. Did she even still want to be an educator? If she was to change her mind, this was the time to do it. Her family’s lineage meant close to nothing to someone who would be considered a runaway.
But deep down she knew she still wanted to do it. She still wanted to keep that one shred of connection to her old self intact, and it was possibly the easiest piece of her to keep in sight while she rebuilt her entire person back up.
She had always wanted to be a teacher. And to her that meant teaching those who had an interest in learning. She would want to teach students who were old enough to decide that it was what they wanted to learn, and not those that were young enough that they had to be there regardless of their desire. She thought about teaching young kids, and while she was sure they could be sweet, it wasn’t for her. There wasn’t even enough of an attention span to make it anything but frustrating for Eslae.
Her real interest was in teaching the hybrid magic that they had in Belrea. She wanted to be the one who mastered the mechanics of the pistols, and perfected the way the bullets could hold potions, powders, and elixirs to house different effects when fired. She already had some of the knowledge that was necessary to do just that, and if she could just find a mentor, she could unlock the secrets and build her own ideas for effects and ailments when hit with all types of weapons.
She sat at her kitchen table in her small apartment overlooking the pavilion to one of the Academy’s lecture halls. She was old enough now that they could take her seriously and teach her. She had enough of a knack to have a leg up on other students, that she was cautiously optimistic of. Her little workbench was already full of colorful liquids and volatile chemicals that were of ever increasing potency from her tinkering. She just didn’t quite know how to house them in a bullet casing yet, or lace them with a blade. She would know in time though, she hoped. Her mind was made up, and she felt she had a small shred of a purpose added back into her life. It set a smile to her face and a little bit of peace to a typically sullen mind. If she could keep it up and push through, she felt like she could make some real progress on feeling normal again. And it would give her something to take her mind off of her real problems for the time being. But if she were to learn more, she would have to find someone to teach her. Which in a place like Valmon, it shouldn’t be that hard.
(Word Count: 602)
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Posted: Wed Dec 16, 2020 6:14 am
Heavy Shoulders
Prentice Growth Solo It was like something was tugging her back, and she couldn’t tell what it was. It was just a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, but it was taking a toll on her mentally and now physically. She was just tired. Eslae felt as though she couldn’t get enough sleep. Her curls were tangled into a rat’s nest where she refused to get out of bed. She couldn’t remember the last time she bathed. If her stomach didn’t protest so loudly and painfully she probably wouldn’t have eaten either.
It had already been four days of just laying down.
She yawned and rolled over in her bed, pulling the pillow over her face. She tried to remember what started all of this. Was she sick? Not physically at least. But she couldn’t shake it. She threw a leg out over the side of her bed and let it hang there, hoping maybe it would give her the push she needed to move. But it didn’t work. Now she was just awkwardly sprawled out over her bed.
She huffed in exasperation and frustration with herself and slowly counted to ten. She told herself she would only stay in bed until ten, and then that was it. The first ten passed and she started over again at one. And then a third set. Okay, she meant it this time. When she reached ten, she was up.
Nine… ten.
Nothing. OKAY. It was too much. She felt miserable. She rolled over onto her back and forcibly pushed herself up into a sitting position before swinging her heavy legs over the side of the bed. She needed to do something with herself. Everything just felt like too much of an effort though. She had to narrow it down to something so small that she could easily follow through and still check it off of her list. Stand up from the bed. Check. Walk to the bathroom. Check. Pick up her toothbrush. Good.
Now that she was moving she looked at her tub. Maybe it would be nice to have a bath. Something to clean her up, but she wouldn’t have to put too much effort in. She could lay in there and not feel too guilty because at least she was clean. She ran the bath water and let her clothes drop to the floor. She ran a hand against the back of her head and winced. It was so tangled. She almost thought that at this point she might have to buzz it off, but she would hate that even more. She pulled out a hair serum and slathered it on before she even got in the bath.
Sinking herself into the water with her curly hair piled on top of her head she let herself slip up to her chin. The warm water felt nice. Maybe after this she would feel like she had reset. She closed her eyes, but she knew that wasn’t right. Well, maybe it’s not a reset, maybe it’s like a small bit of medicine to help her soul get better.
After what must have been over an hour in the tub, she was out and brushed out her wet curls. Just getting the mass of tangles out was a large battle to win for her. She looked at herself in the mirror, her face finally clean and her hair already lifting up into their curls next to her shoulders. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
With any luck, she would be able to get help from a healer, something to push her back into shape. She needed to get through this, just a few more days, and she would start to be better again.
[Eslae has been through some difficult situations in the last five years and it feels as though it’s catching up with her. She struggles to deal with a sudden bout of depression and her feelings of lack of purpose, and just getting herself cleaned up is a small step in the right direction.]
(Word Count: 625)
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Posted: Sat Jun 05, 2021 6:35 pm
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