Post by ricci on Sept 5, 2011 18:02:58 GMT -5
Username: Ricci
Character Number: 1
Name: Ansй
Pronunciation: ON-shuh
Nicknames: N/a
Status: Wandering, physically well. Mentally, well. Emotionally, at ease. Perhaps.
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Sexuality: ???
Family Ties:
Mother: Ailurй (Deceased)
Father: Mikaa (Deceased)
Sibling(s): N/a
Extended "Family": Never to be spoken of, unless it's to celebrate their demise.
Appearance:
Towering over many women, and even many men, Ansй stands at an incredible 6'2". With a slender, arcing body, it is hard to describe Ansй as anything but snake-like. Everything about her is distinctly long, with her arms dangling down half way down her mile-long legs, past her snaking, flexible torso. With rippling muscles hiding beneath her klah-hued skin, she is no woman to mess with. She is built for speed and agility in ways that few are, and with large hands and feet, she can run and climb and last for weeks on a non-stop hike, with minimal rest. She is a hardened woman, and her body only supports this. She lacks the curves that some in her family had, instead sporting a distinctly plain figure, but the flexibility she can show off with that body nevertheless give her a sultry allure.
Even with her many, many scars, there is something sexual about the way she moves. Scars cris-cross the back of her shoulders, slicing along the base of her neck. Thick patches of scar tissue have been left behind on her left arm where she fended off a wild feline at just 17 turns of age. Her right breast is marked with marks of cuts of varying ages, by her own hand. In spite of all of this, she can always convince the Caravaners that her body is worth their marks, their food, and their supplies.
Her head is nearly shaved at all times, carefully cropped to stay out of her way, because she doesn't need that sort of mess, so there isn't much to frame her angular features, causing her pointed cheek-bones to stick out, giving her head an unnatural and uneven appearance. Her face is rather flat, with her eyes shallow-set and far apart, though there is an intense depth in them in spite of the lack of physical deepness. Her face is lined with stress, and her thick lips are frequently pursed into a thoughtful line as she calculates her next move.
Though once, she may have been the sort to always be called younger than she was, now, Ansй is rarely guessed to be her age for the opposite problem. Ansй looks millenia older than she is, with eyes that are distant, not quite emotionless, intense in ways that people have trouble understanding... The lines in her face mark stories, the lines of scar-tissue mark nightmares. Few would ever refer to her as "pretty," and it is really in the way she carries herself that she manages to maintain such a level of allure. It's the mystery in her black eyes, the quiet wildness hiding in her poised step, never quite relaxed, but always loose and ready to spring. Just as there is a deep sexiness to her, there is also something dangerous. Very dangerous.
With her slender, not-quite-malnourished form, who would expect Ansй to survive in the wilds as she has, avoiding all human-contact save for those Caravaners who she sells her body to, avoiding ever seeing those people who hurt her so badly, because the Caravaners do not hurt her. Strangers cannot hurt her, only those close to her can.
Personality:
Stoic, Self-Sufficient, Self-Isolating, Distrustful, Calculating, Wild, Distant, Practical, Self-Loathing, Creative
Quiet. She is quiet. Ansй only spokes if she is spoken to, and then often doesn't even respond with words. She will answer any yes or no question as simply as possible, and often provides irrtatingly single-worded answers. She is not used to having to deal with people on a non-business level, perhaps understandably, and tends to think of things... ferally. Ever since what happened with her family, Ansй has lost a large part of herself. Once, she was curious as a cat and just as playful, but now, she keeps her curiosity in check. Curiosity can kill, after all, and Ansй does not intend to die. It would bring shame on her parents lives if she didn't live life to the fullest. Unfortunately, Ansй just might be incapable of living life to the fullest.
Deeply self-loathing, Ansй takes responsibility for everything that happens around her that is negative, while leaving the positives to be explained away as luck or other people's actions. She hates herself in a way that few can, though she refuses to die. Her anger and inability to communicate with others (whether or not she is given the opportunity) has led to a habit of self-injuring. She almost has it scheduled into her week. Once, every two to four days, she will cut herself just once on her right breast via her dominant left hand, deep enough to scar, and then she will carefully dress it so that it can heal without infection. It is enough, she has decided, to keep her sane, and so she relies heavily on it.
Extremely intelligent, her survival has almost entirely relied on her creative, yet calculating mind. She can put together difficult puzzles in a matter of minutes, so long as there is some practical application to it. She does not enjoy things like picture puzzles, instead preferring puzzles such as "how to capture tonight's meal," or "How can I make this particular cave habitable?" Now, though she does not like to complete puzzles that have no purpose other than entertainment, Ansй does have an outlet outside of her self-injury for her boiling emotions in the form of art. Ansй carves out of scrap-wood strangely alien versions of what she sees around her. They are unmistakable: That is a person, that is a dragon, that is a flower, but their proportions are strange, the angles are different. It's as though she is presenting her view of the world: distorted, sharp, and terribly alien.
And everything really is alien to her. She does not trust people, she doesn't even trust the Caravaners who she sells her body to on a regular basis. The Caravaners don't even know her true name, in truth, thinking her to be named Tiamnor. However, one day, when she is found and brought to the Weyr, she will no longer lie. There will no longer be a purpose to her lies.
Ansv is wild, preferring to sleep on bedding that lies on stone or dirt than in a proper bed, and never wanting to stay in one place. Though she will be given rules in the Weyr, Ansй will frequently break them for the sake of her own comfort. She is prone to panic in small spaces, like an animal. When in a panic, Ansй prefers to run, but if cornered, the girl will not hesitate to break your arm, and if you are killed in the process... Well, it would be nice if Ansй would feel no guilty, but again, she takes too much responsibility. You can be trying to slit her throat, and she will feel guilty if she ends your life.
History:
She is 4 turns old, and her mother says,
"Ansй, today's the day! We're done with sitting at home all day long. It's time to join your father and roam again. Don't you feel how it calls to us? It's in your blood, darling."
"But Mommy," Ansй protests as she plays with her one doll. "Must we? I want to play with Deana."
Ailurй smiles at her skinny little girl. "Deana will come with us, darling. Who else would keep us safe while we sleep?"
"Oh, well, I think that's good then," Ansй says, looking around their one-roomed cothold with disdain. She has never liked being in one place anyways, not that she can recall anyways. She stands and runs to the one window over by the indoor water pump. "Daddy's home!" the little girl cries out, standing on her tip toes. It has been weeks since she and her mother have seen Mikaa, his thin form leading his cattle, Deana's mate, Darin, barks happily as he spots his home.
No dog ever likes to have to roam all the time. It's much more comfortable to rest at home by the hearth. But he won't get to stay for long. They will set out tomorrow, this time with a second dog, a wife, and a daughter in tow. It was time for Ansй to begin to learn the family trade, passed down to Mikaa from his father. If she would be a strong woman on her own, then she must start now, to learn how the land works, to learn how to keep herself fed and healthy. After all, though Ailurй would love to go out on her own as her husband could, she knows that running the wilds is not in her blood in the same way they hope it will be in Ansй's.
Ansй, like her father, is an only child, and though her immediate family is small, her extended family is rather large, with five aunts and two uncles on her mother's side. But they do not speak. No, Ailurй is her family's black-sheep, or perhaps, more accurately, its white sheep. She was born to a family which prefers to feed itself by breaking the law, taking from those who have done good, honest work, and growing fat. Ailurй was different from the day she was born, and was married young, drawing close to the honest man, Mikaa, at a Gather she was supposed to be stealing at, where he and his parents were selling their cattle. She still remembers, all those turns ago when she was just 14, begging Mikaa and Thenaa and Maruki to take her with them, telling them the nature of her family. It had been her family's first attempt to "bring her into the business," and it had gone terribly for them, leading to the capture of her elder brother who has ever since been working as a drudge to pay off his crimes.
They trusted her, for whatever reason, and Ailurй is still thankful. By the time she was 16, she and Mikaa were married, sleeping under the stars with Thenaa and Maruki, or occasionally sharing the small one-roomed cot with them. They lived happily and freely. When Mikaa was twenty six, and Ailurй, twenty, Ailurй became pregnant. Towards the end of her pregnancy, Ailurй and Mikaa were kept at home so that she could birth her child, and begin raising the girl. Thenaa met his granddaughter once, and Maruki never got the chance. You see, within a month of Ansй's birth, Maruki and Thenaa were attacked on their way back home from their weeks out with their herd.
It still pains Ailurй that they died to see her child, with Thenaa barely making it home, dying within two days of his arrival. He couldn't speak, too ill, and in spite of the risk, Ailurй allowed him to hold her child just once. He smiled, and quickly handed her back, then went to sleep. He never woke up again. Mikaa went out to locate the herd, but many had scattered. The herd was still a strong sized herd, but it is admittedly smaller than it was under Thenaa and Maruki's care.
Now, Ailurй is glad to be headed back out into the wilds, dangerous though it might be. Her blood is beginning to itch from the many hours of cleaning and quite work. They do not have a farm, it would not make sense with their lifestyle, but they had to wait for Ansй to be old enough before they can return into the wilderness.
"Daddy! Look what I made!"
Ailurй smiles as her daughter shows her father the various art projects she has made over the past two weeks. She has missed her father. She won't have to miss him again.
...
It has been ten turns since Ansй was first allowed out into the wild with her mother and her father. Deana and Derin have long since died, leaving them four of their offspring to care for in their stead, and several more sold at Gathers. Aber, Cadel, Sabra, and Eyrie are running the herd, trying to get them to turn away from the homestead as they head back into the wild lands. It is the best way to keep from overgrazing any one location. Keep them moving, and the grass will regrow sweeter than before for their next return. At 14, Ansй already stands at a surprising 5'8", nearly as tall as her mother, and only a foot shorter than her ever-tall father.
She smiles as her mother's young Brown firelizard tries to join in the hubbub, Tiamnor never has been very smart.
...
After a month out from their cothold, the family is, for once, pleased to return home. It is not common, but it does happen occasionally, that they just want to sleep under a roof. The feeling never lasts for long, but it comes occasionally. They are only a mile away, and once they return home, Ailurй and Mikaa have a surprise for their daughter. Her 16th turnday, after all, just passed while they were on this last trek into the wilds. The herd is as large as they can care for anymore, and they will be hiring on helping hands soon. Though they live a simple life, that doesn't mean it is a poor life. No, they are amongst the richest Herders on the Continent, now. Their cattle are notoriously healthy, with delicious meat, excellent milk, and good hides for leather. They are well-known throughout the land, and this will be their downfall.
As they draw ever nearer to the cothold, they become quiet. Eyrie barks out nervously -- something is wrong. Mikaa goes on ahead, but he never comes back. Finally, after what seems like ages, Ailurй sends her Brown 'lizard to investigate, something which she is angry she did not think about earlier. He comes back with ichor dripping from an injured leg, sending images of people not animals. They don't know what to do -- people are a different kind of beast. Ansй panics and runs ahead, fear welling into her heart.
"Father?!" she calls out as the cothold comes into her sight. He is bound and gagged in front of the door, and his eyes are wide and scared. There is a group of runners nearby, a cart attached to one of them. A man comes out of the cothold with a bag of things and throws them onto the cart. They are being robbed.
"Get out of here!" Ansй shrieks, her low voice filling the air like a storm as she runs in. Her father tries to deter her, but it is too late. A heavy-set woman that looks oddly like her mother throws something at Ansй, and she collapses. It has hit her head, but rather than knocking her out, it has knocked sense into her. She has to remain calm if she and her family will get through this.
Or at least, that was her intent. She's kicked roughly by someone, and the wind is knocked out of her. She's soon bound and gagged like her father. Ailurй soon follows, shrieking about blood-traitors. These were her brothers and sisters, who she has not seen in many turns.
"Think you're better than us, don't you, Sister?" one says to her, kicking her to the ground, then smashing her head against the wall with his boot. There is a nasty crack, and she doesn't move.
They move on to Ansй and her father, Ansй's entire body hurts from the stress and pain of watching what was happening, and her father has tears streaming down his cheeks. She can't do anything as the man slits her father's throat, and then thrusts the blade into her side, then leaves it there, letting her die slowly.
"That's what you get, girl. Your mother was a nobody, and she will always be a nobody."
...
When she wakes up, it is because Tiamnor is still there, sadly waiting for his new bond to wake up. When she does, it is to a world of pain. Her side aches, but the actual site of the knife is completely numb. Ansй mumbles through the gag, and Tiamnor helpfully moves it aside.
"Can you... bite through the straps?" Ansй asks slowly, her voice soft and scratchy. The Brown tries his best, and ultimately manages to bite through one, giving her enough wiggle room to free just one hand. She takes a quick series of breaths and finally looks at the dagger embedded in her side. It dawns on her that the unintelligent Brown could be helpful here, and she sends him for paper and a pencil, writes a hasty note, and then sends him to anyone who he knows. The only person was a Tanner who lived closer to the Hold than they did, but lived further than most because otherwise the smell of the Tannery tended to get complaints. He sends for more help, and eventually, Ansй, once again unconscious, gets the help she needs with a Healer.
...
It has been three turns since her family was killed.
Tiamnor, as stupid as he was, managed to get killed before the very first turn was out. How Ailurй had kept him alive as long as he had been, Ansй cannot tell. She doesn't care, though. He was more in the way than anything, anyways. The herds were scattered and stolen, and her cothold is gone, burned to the ground by her own hand. When she had been well enough to return home some months after she was first brought to the Hold, her mother and father's bones were gone, picked away by scavengers. Nothing remained, only a few broken pots, some wooden utensils. Not even the bedding had been left alone by her mother's family. Ansй was left with nothing, so she made sure it really was nothing. She tore apart what wouldn't burn, and burned the rest. She hasn't been back to that valley since, living in the wild.
She does not see people often anymore, but she does see them. There is a Caravan that uses a road a mile from where Ansй tends to live, it travels through three times each turn, sometimes 4 on a good year. But she has little to barter with them, and so she offers her skinny body. Perhaps out of some amount of pity, they always take her, but that doesn't mean they don't take pleasure in their little hidden secret in the woods. She begs them to keep quiet about her, and so far, they seem to have kept their promise. With her body, she purchases supplies, occasionally weapons, but usually tools. She lives her life well off of the little she gets.
Not long after Tiamnor died, Ansй earned the scar that was itching her now as she sat in one of the many trees she had labeled as her own. She had gone many miles beyond where she ever had, and now had many trees in her vicinity, where before she had been among the plains. She looks out to the ocean, now so close when once she had never even seen it. A feline, large and deadly, had also stalked this region once, though he had seemed out of place. He wasn't here anymore. Ansй had made certain of that once she had healed herself of the wound he had given her. Her cunning had led her to make a trap, one which entangled the beast, and then she had gambled, coming down upon it with her curved blade that she had bartered from the Caravan, and she successfully killed it.
She ate well for several days after that, thankful that it was nearing winter and that the air was cold enough to keep her meat for the three days that she took to eat it. She kept the skin, but it was of no use to her ultimately, and so she traded it with the Caravaners when they passed through a few weeks later. That had bought her even more necessities than her body could.
Now, she bides her time. The ocean is vast, and so is her coastline, lined by forest and riddled with private caves, but she knows she can't remain hidden forever. No, especially since recently, for whatever reason... she has been wandering Eastward, and slowly but surely, those dragons can be seen.
Character Number: 1
Anse; 19 Turns; Zodiac Weyrling of Copper (m) Fallath
Black and White
Again I've become someone else
Someone new
It's up to me
If I live or die, too
Long Image
Black and White
Again I've become someone else
Someone new
It's up to me
If I live or die, too
Long Image
Name: Ansй
Pronunciation: ON-shuh
Nicknames: N/a
Status: Wandering, physically well. Mentally, well. Emotionally, at ease. Perhaps.
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Sexuality: ???
Family Ties:
Mother: Ailurй (Deceased)
Father: Mikaa (Deceased)
Sibling(s): N/a
Extended "Family": Never to be spoken of, unless it's to celebrate their demise.
Appearance:
Towering over many women, and even many men, Ansй stands at an incredible 6'2". With a slender, arcing body, it is hard to describe Ansй as anything but snake-like. Everything about her is distinctly long, with her arms dangling down half way down her mile-long legs, past her snaking, flexible torso. With rippling muscles hiding beneath her klah-hued skin, she is no woman to mess with. She is built for speed and agility in ways that few are, and with large hands and feet, she can run and climb and last for weeks on a non-stop hike, with minimal rest. She is a hardened woman, and her body only supports this. She lacks the curves that some in her family had, instead sporting a distinctly plain figure, but the flexibility she can show off with that body nevertheless give her a sultry allure.
Even with her many, many scars, there is something sexual about the way she moves. Scars cris-cross the back of her shoulders, slicing along the base of her neck. Thick patches of scar tissue have been left behind on her left arm where she fended off a wild feline at just 17 turns of age. Her right breast is marked with marks of cuts of varying ages, by her own hand. In spite of all of this, she can always convince the Caravaners that her body is worth their marks, their food, and their supplies.
Her head is nearly shaved at all times, carefully cropped to stay out of her way, because she doesn't need that sort of mess, so there isn't much to frame her angular features, causing her pointed cheek-bones to stick out, giving her head an unnatural and uneven appearance. Her face is rather flat, with her eyes shallow-set and far apart, though there is an intense depth in them in spite of the lack of physical deepness. Her face is lined with stress, and her thick lips are frequently pursed into a thoughtful line as she calculates her next move.
Though once, she may have been the sort to always be called younger than she was, now, Ansй is rarely guessed to be her age for the opposite problem. Ansй looks millenia older than she is, with eyes that are distant, not quite emotionless, intense in ways that people have trouble understanding... The lines in her face mark stories, the lines of scar-tissue mark nightmares. Few would ever refer to her as "pretty," and it is really in the way she carries herself that she manages to maintain such a level of allure. It's the mystery in her black eyes, the quiet wildness hiding in her poised step, never quite relaxed, but always loose and ready to spring. Just as there is a deep sexiness to her, there is also something dangerous. Very dangerous.
With her slender, not-quite-malnourished form, who would expect Ansй to survive in the wilds as she has, avoiding all human-contact save for those Caravaners who she sells her body to, avoiding ever seeing those people who hurt her so badly, because the Caravaners do not hurt her. Strangers cannot hurt her, only those close to her can.
Personality:
Stoic, Self-Sufficient, Self-Isolating, Distrustful, Calculating, Wild, Distant, Practical, Self-Loathing, Creative
Quiet. She is quiet. Ansй only spokes if she is spoken to, and then often doesn't even respond with words. She will answer any yes or no question as simply as possible, and often provides irrtatingly single-worded answers. She is not used to having to deal with people on a non-business level, perhaps understandably, and tends to think of things... ferally. Ever since what happened with her family, Ansй has lost a large part of herself. Once, she was curious as a cat and just as playful, but now, she keeps her curiosity in check. Curiosity can kill, after all, and Ansй does not intend to die. It would bring shame on her parents lives if she didn't live life to the fullest. Unfortunately, Ansй just might be incapable of living life to the fullest.
Deeply self-loathing, Ansй takes responsibility for everything that happens around her that is negative, while leaving the positives to be explained away as luck or other people's actions. She hates herself in a way that few can, though she refuses to die. Her anger and inability to communicate with others (whether or not she is given the opportunity) has led to a habit of self-injuring. She almost has it scheduled into her week. Once, every two to four days, she will cut herself just once on her right breast via her dominant left hand, deep enough to scar, and then she will carefully dress it so that it can heal without infection. It is enough, she has decided, to keep her sane, and so she relies heavily on it.
Extremely intelligent, her survival has almost entirely relied on her creative, yet calculating mind. She can put together difficult puzzles in a matter of minutes, so long as there is some practical application to it. She does not enjoy things like picture puzzles, instead preferring puzzles such as "how to capture tonight's meal," or "How can I make this particular cave habitable?" Now, though she does not like to complete puzzles that have no purpose other than entertainment, Ansй does have an outlet outside of her self-injury for her boiling emotions in the form of art. Ansй carves out of scrap-wood strangely alien versions of what she sees around her. They are unmistakable: That is a person, that is a dragon, that is a flower, but their proportions are strange, the angles are different. It's as though she is presenting her view of the world: distorted, sharp, and terribly alien.
And everything really is alien to her. She does not trust people, she doesn't even trust the Caravaners who she sells her body to on a regular basis. The Caravaners don't even know her true name, in truth, thinking her to be named Tiamnor. However, one day, when she is found and brought to the Weyr, she will no longer lie. There will no longer be a purpose to her lies.
Ansv is wild, preferring to sleep on bedding that lies on stone or dirt than in a proper bed, and never wanting to stay in one place. Though she will be given rules in the Weyr, Ansй will frequently break them for the sake of her own comfort. She is prone to panic in small spaces, like an animal. When in a panic, Ansй prefers to run, but if cornered, the girl will not hesitate to break your arm, and if you are killed in the process... Well, it would be nice if Ansй would feel no guilty, but again, she takes too much responsibility. You can be trying to slit her throat, and she will feel guilty if she ends your life.
History:
She is 4 turns old, and her mother says,
"Ansй, today's the day! We're done with sitting at home all day long. It's time to join your father and roam again. Don't you feel how it calls to us? It's in your blood, darling."
"But Mommy," Ansй protests as she plays with her one doll. "Must we? I want to play with Deana."
Ailurй smiles at her skinny little girl. "Deana will come with us, darling. Who else would keep us safe while we sleep?"
"Oh, well, I think that's good then," Ansй says, looking around their one-roomed cothold with disdain. She has never liked being in one place anyways, not that she can recall anyways. She stands and runs to the one window over by the indoor water pump. "Daddy's home!" the little girl cries out, standing on her tip toes. It has been weeks since she and her mother have seen Mikaa, his thin form leading his cattle, Deana's mate, Darin, barks happily as he spots his home.
No dog ever likes to have to roam all the time. It's much more comfortable to rest at home by the hearth. But he won't get to stay for long. They will set out tomorrow, this time with a second dog, a wife, and a daughter in tow. It was time for Ansй to begin to learn the family trade, passed down to Mikaa from his father. If she would be a strong woman on her own, then she must start now, to learn how the land works, to learn how to keep herself fed and healthy. After all, though Ailurй would love to go out on her own as her husband could, she knows that running the wilds is not in her blood in the same way they hope it will be in Ansй's.
Ansй, like her father, is an only child, and though her immediate family is small, her extended family is rather large, with five aunts and two uncles on her mother's side. But they do not speak. No, Ailurй is her family's black-sheep, or perhaps, more accurately, its white sheep. She was born to a family which prefers to feed itself by breaking the law, taking from those who have done good, honest work, and growing fat. Ailurй was different from the day she was born, and was married young, drawing close to the honest man, Mikaa, at a Gather she was supposed to be stealing at, where he and his parents were selling their cattle. She still remembers, all those turns ago when she was just 14, begging Mikaa and Thenaa and Maruki to take her with them, telling them the nature of her family. It had been her family's first attempt to "bring her into the business," and it had gone terribly for them, leading to the capture of her elder brother who has ever since been working as a drudge to pay off his crimes.
They trusted her, for whatever reason, and Ailurй is still thankful. By the time she was 16, she and Mikaa were married, sleeping under the stars with Thenaa and Maruki, or occasionally sharing the small one-roomed cot with them. They lived happily and freely. When Mikaa was twenty six, and Ailurй, twenty, Ailurй became pregnant. Towards the end of her pregnancy, Ailurй and Mikaa were kept at home so that she could birth her child, and begin raising the girl. Thenaa met his granddaughter once, and Maruki never got the chance. You see, within a month of Ansй's birth, Maruki and Thenaa were attacked on their way back home from their weeks out with their herd.
It still pains Ailurй that they died to see her child, with Thenaa barely making it home, dying within two days of his arrival. He couldn't speak, too ill, and in spite of the risk, Ailurй allowed him to hold her child just once. He smiled, and quickly handed her back, then went to sleep. He never woke up again. Mikaa went out to locate the herd, but many had scattered. The herd was still a strong sized herd, but it is admittedly smaller than it was under Thenaa and Maruki's care.
Now, Ailurй is glad to be headed back out into the wilds, dangerous though it might be. Her blood is beginning to itch from the many hours of cleaning and quite work. They do not have a farm, it would not make sense with their lifestyle, but they had to wait for Ansй to be old enough before they can return into the wilderness.
"Daddy! Look what I made!"
Ailurй smiles as her daughter shows her father the various art projects she has made over the past two weeks. She has missed her father. She won't have to miss him again.
...
It has been ten turns since Ansй was first allowed out into the wild with her mother and her father. Deana and Derin have long since died, leaving them four of their offspring to care for in their stead, and several more sold at Gathers. Aber, Cadel, Sabra, and Eyrie are running the herd, trying to get them to turn away from the homestead as they head back into the wild lands. It is the best way to keep from overgrazing any one location. Keep them moving, and the grass will regrow sweeter than before for their next return. At 14, Ansй already stands at a surprising 5'8", nearly as tall as her mother, and only a foot shorter than her ever-tall father.
She smiles as her mother's young Brown firelizard tries to join in the hubbub, Tiamnor never has been very smart.
...
After a month out from their cothold, the family is, for once, pleased to return home. It is not common, but it does happen occasionally, that they just want to sleep under a roof. The feeling never lasts for long, but it comes occasionally. They are only a mile away, and once they return home, Ailurй and Mikaa have a surprise for their daughter. Her 16th turnday, after all, just passed while they were on this last trek into the wilds. The herd is as large as they can care for anymore, and they will be hiring on helping hands soon. Though they live a simple life, that doesn't mean it is a poor life. No, they are amongst the richest Herders on the Continent, now. Their cattle are notoriously healthy, with delicious meat, excellent milk, and good hides for leather. They are well-known throughout the land, and this will be their downfall.
As they draw ever nearer to the cothold, they become quiet. Eyrie barks out nervously -- something is wrong. Mikaa goes on ahead, but he never comes back. Finally, after what seems like ages, Ailurй sends her Brown 'lizard to investigate, something which she is angry she did not think about earlier. He comes back with ichor dripping from an injured leg, sending images of people not animals. They don't know what to do -- people are a different kind of beast. Ansй panics and runs ahead, fear welling into her heart.
"Father?!" she calls out as the cothold comes into her sight. He is bound and gagged in front of the door, and his eyes are wide and scared. There is a group of runners nearby, a cart attached to one of them. A man comes out of the cothold with a bag of things and throws them onto the cart. They are being robbed.
"Get out of here!" Ansй shrieks, her low voice filling the air like a storm as she runs in. Her father tries to deter her, but it is too late. A heavy-set woman that looks oddly like her mother throws something at Ansй, and she collapses. It has hit her head, but rather than knocking her out, it has knocked sense into her. She has to remain calm if she and her family will get through this.
Or at least, that was her intent. She's kicked roughly by someone, and the wind is knocked out of her. She's soon bound and gagged like her father. Ailurй soon follows, shrieking about blood-traitors. These were her brothers and sisters, who she has not seen in many turns.
"Think you're better than us, don't you, Sister?" one says to her, kicking her to the ground, then smashing her head against the wall with his boot. There is a nasty crack, and she doesn't move.
They move on to Ansй and her father, Ansй's entire body hurts from the stress and pain of watching what was happening, and her father has tears streaming down his cheeks. She can't do anything as the man slits her father's throat, and then thrusts the blade into her side, then leaves it there, letting her die slowly.
"That's what you get, girl. Your mother was a nobody, and she will always be a nobody."
...
When she wakes up, it is because Tiamnor is still there, sadly waiting for his new bond to wake up. When she does, it is to a world of pain. Her side aches, but the actual site of the knife is completely numb. Ansй mumbles through the gag, and Tiamnor helpfully moves it aside.
"Can you... bite through the straps?" Ansй asks slowly, her voice soft and scratchy. The Brown tries his best, and ultimately manages to bite through one, giving her enough wiggle room to free just one hand. She takes a quick series of breaths and finally looks at the dagger embedded in her side. It dawns on her that the unintelligent Brown could be helpful here, and she sends him for paper and a pencil, writes a hasty note, and then sends him to anyone who he knows. The only person was a Tanner who lived closer to the Hold than they did, but lived further than most because otherwise the smell of the Tannery tended to get complaints. He sends for more help, and eventually, Ansй, once again unconscious, gets the help she needs with a Healer.
...
It has been three turns since her family was killed.
Tiamnor, as stupid as he was, managed to get killed before the very first turn was out. How Ailurй had kept him alive as long as he had been, Ansй cannot tell. She doesn't care, though. He was more in the way than anything, anyways. The herds were scattered and stolen, and her cothold is gone, burned to the ground by her own hand. When she had been well enough to return home some months after she was first brought to the Hold, her mother and father's bones were gone, picked away by scavengers. Nothing remained, only a few broken pots, some wooden utensils. Not even the bedding had been left alone by her mother's family. Ansй was left with nothing, so she made sure it really was nothing. She tore apart what wouldn't burn, and burned the rest. She hasn't been back to that valley since, living in the wild.
She does not see people often anymore, but she does see them. There is a Caravan that uses a road a mile from where Ansй tends to live, it travels through three times each turn, sometimes 4 on a good year. But she has little to barter with them, and so she offers her skinny body. Perhaps out of some amount of pity, they always take her, but that doesn't mean they don't take pleasure in their little hidden secret in the woods. She begs them to keep quiet about her, and so far, they seem to have kept their promise. With her body, she purchases supplies, occasionally weapons, but usually tools. She lives her life well off of the little she gets.
Not long after Tiamnor died, Ansй earned the scar that was itching her now as she sat in one of the many trees she had labeled as her own. She had gone many miles beyond where she ever had, and now had many trees in her vicinity, where before she had been among the plains. She looks out to the ocean, now so close when once she had never even seen it. A feline, large and deadly, had also stalked this region once, though he had seemed out of place. He wasn't here anymore. Ansй had made certain of that once she had healed herself of the wound he had given her. Her cunning had led her to make a trap, one which entangled the beast, and then she had gambled, coming down upon it with her curved blade that she had bartered from the Caravan, and she successfully killed it.
She ate well for several days after that, thankful that it was nearing winter and that the air was cold enough to keep her meat for the three days that she took to eat it. She kept the skin, but it was of no use to her ultimately, and so she traded it with the Caravaners when they passed through a few weeks later. That had bought her even more necessities than her body could.
Now, she bides her time. The ocean is vast, and so is her coastline, lined by forest and riddled with private caves, but she knows she can't remain hidden forever. No, especially since recently, for whatever reason... she has been wandering Eastward, and slowly but surely, those dragons can be seen.
