Many thanks to Lhyrs who beta-ed this for me. Any mistakes left are my own.
Warning: Some disturbing themes later on. Death of characters. Also, I'm not a native English speaker (comments/corrections welcomed, be it on spelling, grammar, phrasing or general structure of the text). Finally, I wasn't ingame for the Exode event, so if I got anything wrong, do not hesitate to correct me.
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Departure
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When her mother entered their small house, wide eyes filled with fright, the child knew immediately that something was wrong.
She watched the middle aged woman as she crossed the room at a brisk pace, collecting their few possessions and packing them in a ragged bag with frantic moves. As she did so, she addressed her daughter with as calm and reassuring a voice as she could muster, but the child wasn't fooled: "Get ready, honey. We're going on a little trip."
"Where?" asked the confused and increasingly worried child. She had only seen her mother in such a state once before, when she had lost her job at the seamstress workshop because someone had wrongly accused her of stealing from her employer, and her mother had said that they might have to move out. For a while after that, they had had to sleep in uncomfortable places, and there was less food than usual.
"To a great place with no kitins. You'll see, it'll be like going on an adventure, we'll search for the promised land" the adult replied with what she hoped appeared as a warm and confident smile. She was trying to appeal to her daughter's adventurous side, which she knew the reckless child had in spares, usually a great cause of worry for her.
To her dismay, the eight year old didn't jump for joy at the news. Her Brinn was a perceptive child, she knew, and she could sense the fear the adult was desperately trying to hide. Admittedly, the woman had never been so terrified in her life. It had been decided that all inhabitants of the Kingdom were to go on a journey to Pyr, and from there to a safe place the kitins wouldn't reach. They were running away, the kitins could attack at any moment now. Once again, homins were at the nonexistent mercy of the dreadful creatures. The enormity of the situation only now reached her, and it was all she could do to avoid breaking down in tears. They had lost.
With trembling hands, she put a tattered shawl on the child's shoulders, checking and arranging her attire so that she would be ready for the trek. The shawl wasn't necessary yet, but Jena only knew how hot the the desert sun would burn, once they reached the Fyros border.
She kissed her only family on the forehead while standing up, struggling to withhold the tears that had started to blur her vision. She spoke in a trembling whisper:
"Come on, honey, let's go."
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Journey
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Eight year old Brinn watched with wide eyes the enormous wall of Pyr in front of her, her fatigue all but forgotten now that a new source of wonder was presented to her. Around them, homins of all races were assembled in a confusing flurry of activity. She had never seen so many different sorts of people in one place. All were weary, some still shocked or sad, others determined.
Seeing her daughter once again captivated by their surroundings, the Matis smiled, thankful for the distraction. The journey had been difficult for both mother and child, every muscle seemed to hurt and the heat was scorching. Of all places, why did their exile have to take them to the Desert? She worried that some Fyros might assault them. Life had always been difficult for their poor family, she knew not to expect help from most people. Now, more than ever, they were in a hostile environment. Would laws here protect Matis from the local population? Would laws even be upheld, in such a dire situation? Who would waste time to help two poor refugees, two nobodies, in the land of their secular enemies? But the Fyros, like everybody else, seemed to have better things to do than pay attention to them. They too, were preparing to abandon their home.
And so, they went on.
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Thieft
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In the hustle and bustle of the recently populated refuge, huddled up in a corner, barely visible between crates and bags not yet unpacked, was the small shivering form of a Matis child. She had been sitting here for hours now, ever since the procession of refugees had been transported there. No one seemed to pay attention to her, no one seemed to even notice her presence. Dried tears had left tracks on her cheeks and she stared at nothing, immobile. All she could see was a repeat of the last few hours before reaching safety, again and again.
She had been exhausted by the long trek. She had had no idea how long they had been walking. Her mother hadn't been able to carry her often, since she was tired out herself from carrying their bag. Their cortege had been attacked several times already, by kitins or other hostile creatures she had never seen before, with names she couldn't remember.
Suddenly, there had been cries, soon followed by sounds of battle, alien roars and screams of pain. It was deafening. Everybody was running, fighting, shouting. She heard someone swear loudly in a foreign language not very far from her. She thinks she heard the name "kitin" at some point. She was knocked over, she couldn't tell by who or what. She had no idea what was happening, her blood was pounding in her ears, her heart hammering in her ribcage, her Mom, where was her Mom?
She couldn't recall exactly what had happened then. Panic had filled her, there was a lot of noise. People were running, she had been dragged along and somehow she had ended up here, in the refuge.
At first, she had wandered around the place, calling for her mother. Sometimes, a homin would stop and look at her, but none of them knew where her mother was, all they did was look at her with pity and shake their head sadly before going their own way. Everyone was tired, injured, grieving. She was scared and she couldn't find her Mom.
Eventually, despair and exhaustion had caught up with her, and she had sagged down near a crate and cried herself to sleep.
She was awake, now, had been for a while. She had no energy left for crying, and no idea what to do. She wanted her mother to find her and everything would be okay. She wanted anyone to find her and help her. She was hungry, but she was used to it - they hadn't been able to eat everyday before the journey anyway. She didn't know what to do.
So she waited.
For hours she stared apathetically, wondering when someone would come to her. She still hoped that her mother would find her, but she knew the looks that were given to her earlier - she wasn't stupid, she had heard people talk, seen them cry for the dead after the attack.
Still, she waited.
Hours turned to days, her belly started to ache, but nobody took notice of her. Sometimes, she would fall asleep, waking up disoriented until she remembered where she was. How she was. Alone.
Then she would resume her waiting.
She had never felt so weak in her life, she didn't think she would be able to stand up even if she wanted to. She knew she had to wait, but she wasn't sure for what any more. Was it someone? Yes, someone was supposed to help her. Help her how? Who? No one was paying her any attention. Did anyone know her here? No, probably not, she decided. So what did that mean? What was she to do? How long had she been here anyway? Her belly hurt so much. She didn't think she had ever spent so much time without food. Before The Journey, even during hard times, her mother would make sure she had at least something to eat once a day, occasionally every other day. She wasn't picky, she wasn't the kind to complain, she knew it never helped anyway. But now it hurt. And she was so weak. Was she dying? Was that how it felt? Would she just die here, without anyone paying attention?
Something in her started to burn. A warmth that gave her energy. It was probably something akin to wrath, though she didn't stop to examine it. All of this, it wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She didn't want it to be like that. She felt like screaming but she didn't think she had the strength. Her features, that had remained apathetic so far, twisted into a frown. Her empty eyes, now ablaze with anger and frustration, started to watch her surroundings again. She looked at the people who were passing her without a glance, and she hated them for it.
She noticed a Fyros with a cart of seeds, and her stomach growled. She startled at the foreign sensation: it had stopped doing that for a while, now that she thought about it. The seeds wouldn't even have been considered food before The Journey. Now, she couldn't help wishing she had some to eat. For the first time in days, she stood. Slowly, on shaking legs, she walked up to the Fyros-with-the-cart. She wondered absently how he had managed to bring it here, with how difficult The Journey was. Again, not fair. Fyros-with-the-cart finally noticed her approaching. Immediately, his expression turned into a grimace. "Don't you get near my merchandise, you disgusting wretch! Fyrak! You stink worse than the dead!" Brinn started at the harsh words, the first that were addressed to her in days. Strangely, she didn't feel like crying. Resentment was the only thing left in her, or so it seemed. Head hung low with disappointment, she turned on her feet, ready to walk back to her crate. Abruptly, one of the wheels of the cart broke. The thing probably had suffered too much damage during The Journey, and now all of the seeds were on the ground. Fyros-with-the-cart swore loudly, the commotion attracting curious passers-by, a few of them offering their help. Soon a small crowd was gathered.
Brinn wordlessly stared at the scene, frozen in thoughts. Once again, no one was paying her any attention. Silently, she crawled to the cart, and quickly helped herself for as much of the seeds as she could hold within her ragged shirt. Then she turned on her heels and ran away before anyone noticed her.
Later, she found a quiet place behind an out-of-the-way tent to savour "food" for the first time since The Journey. She felt better. She hadn't even known she still had the ability to run, drained as she was. The rush of adrenalin had helped, too. And now, her stomach was filled.
She stopped and though about her current situation. Nobody had come. Nobody cared. She would have died in her corner, had she not stood up and taken the seeds from the nasty Fyros. Now she felt so much better.
Nobody came, and nobody would. But she could still take the matter into her own hands, and do what she must. She didn't need anybody. She would be all right.
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Friend
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It was market day in the Refuge. Among the activity of the crowd, ten year-old Brinn was observing. She had had no luck recently; getting caught last week trying to steal some goods from the stock of a greedy Trykette was only the worst part. She had panicked at the idea of being arrested, punished, who knew what would have happen then? The Trykette looked very, very angry. While trying to escape, trying to find anything that would help her, she had somehow grabbed a dagger that was lying amongst her victim's possessions on a small table. When the victim - who looked very much like a crazed predator at this point - had lunged at her, the Matis had screamed a small cry, closed her eyes and... when she had dared opening them again, she was sitting on her bruised back and the Trykette was lying on the floor. That was her first murder.
She had been so shocked that she had forgotten to take the goods with her when she had run away. She had run, and run, and eventually, had come to, and taken in her surroundings. She normally never stopped paying attention to her surroundings. Thankfully, it seems her feet knew to take her to safety, even when her mind blacked out. She had stood there for a while, still trembling.
She hadn't been able to eat much, this past week. She had been too out of it, her few attempts at stealing food often ended badly, let alone trying to get anything else; she had had trouble getting the image of the dead Trykette out of her mind. And now, she was hungry.
She noticed a young, kind-looking Fyros adult at a stand. He was smiling at every vendor he talked to, taking the time to acknowledge every one of them even when he didn't buy anything, and - more importantly - she had noticed him giving a few more dappers than necessary when he bought those two nice rings. A kind and wealthy man, generous with his dappers on top of it. He'll do, She thought as she watched him put away his newly acquired (but not for long if she had say in the matter) rings. She chose to play the card of the girl running away from a slave trader. With the confusion and indigence caused by the Exodus, greedy homins always found a way to take advantage of other's misery, and some had found interest in this activity. Her act worked, and as she dried her fake tears from her cheeks, looking at the Fyros going back his own way, oblivious to the two missing rings now glittering in the palm of her hand, she smiled. Finally, she was getting back in the swing of things.
"You are talented. You look young, probably around the same age as us, yet you did well with that Fyros." said a child's voice on her left. Despite the youthfulness of the voice, the words were sharp and the last one had been almost spat, so full of disgust that Brinn knew before turning around what she would see. There stood two young Matis, well dressed, clean, standing proudly and looking at her. It took her a moment to process the fact that these obviously Noble children were addressing her. Not to insult, not even to mock or despise, and definitely not to hurt her. They were complimenting her. In their eyes Brinn could only see... interest? That was a first. She was good at escaping attention, but those two had seen her stealing, she had better listen to what they wanted.
As the unknown girl kept speaking, Brinn watched them closely. They looked young, very young, but their manners and speech were those of much older people than herself. Nobles! It was hard to give these two an age. The girl wanted a plant that she obviously could afford - or so Brinn thought, they were Nobles after all, and in her mind they had to be filthy rich - but she still asked Brinn to steal it for her. The thief realized she was being tested. She did not know what to make of it, but the rich girl had dappers, and so Brinn did it. She had had a terrible week, and she was getting a bit desperate for dappers and food. When she came back with the plant, her deed accomplished, and the Noble threw the dappers on the ground, she was on her knees in the blink of an eye collecting the promise of a stomach filled for several days - and that was not even counting the two jewels she had previously taken from the Fyros !
As she stood up, she looked back at the two children, wondering what would happen now. They were quick to hide their disgust at her manners, though Brinn had noticed it, but they didn't comment on it. If anything, they looked pleased. Something passed between the two girls then, and without any of them realizing it, the spark of a new-found complicity had just ignited, born from a strange kind of mutual respect. Relaxing a fraction, Brinn realized she was not in trouble. Somehow she knew that, despite her status, the one she would later know as Isildya was all right.
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Note: I'll post a French translation on the French RP Forum when/if I find the time.
The last part is common with Isildya's background which can be read here for her own point of view (and more background on Isildya's character). It's in French only. I considered translating it, but can't find time/energy to do it. Maybe later.
Warning: Some disturbing themes later on. Death of characters. Also, I'm not a native English speaker (comments/corrections welcomed, be it on spelling, grammar, phrasing or general structure of the text). Finally, I wasn't ingame for the Exode event, so if I got anything wrong, do not hesitate to correct me.
---------------------------------------------------------
Departure
---------------------------------------------------------
When her mother entered their small house, wide eyes filled with fright, the child knew immediately that something was wrong.
She watched the middle aged woman as she crossed the room at a brisk pace, collecting their few possessions and packing them in a ragged bag with frantic moves. As she did so, she addressed her daughter with as calm and reassuring a voice as she could muster, but the child wasn't fooled: "Get ready, honey. We're going on a little trip."
"Where?" asked the confused and increasingly worried child. She had only seen her mother in such a state once before, when she had lost her job at the seamstress workshop because someone had wrongly accused her of stealing from her employer, and her mother had said that they might have to move out. For a while after that, they had had to sleep in uncomfortable places, and there was less food than usual.
"To a great place with no kitins. You'll see, it'll be like going on an adventure, we'll search for the promised land" the adult replied with what she hoped appeared as a warm and confident smile. She was trying to appeal to her daughter's adventurous side, which she knew the reckless child had in spares, usually a great cause of worry for her.
To her dismay, the eight year old didn't jump for joy at the news. Her Brinn was a perceptive child, she knew, and she could sense the fear the adult was desperately trying to hide. Admittedly, the woman had never been so terrified in her life. It had been decided that all inhabitants of the Kingdom were to go on a journey to Pyr, and from there to a safe place the kitins wouldn't reach. They were running away, the kitins could attack at any moment now. Once again, homins were at the nonexistent mercy of the dreadful creatures. The enormity of the situation only now reached her, and it was all she could do to avoid breaking down in tears. They had lost.
With trembling hands, she put a tattered shawl on the child's shoulders, checking and arranging her attire so that she would be ready for the trek. The shawl wasn't necessary yet, but Jena only knew how hot the the desert sun would burn, once they reached the Fyros border.
She kissed her only family on the forehead while standing up, struggling to withhold the tears that had started to blur her vision. She spoke in a trembling whisper:
"Come on, honey, let's go."
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Journey
---------------------------------------------------------
Eight year old Brinn watched with wide eyes the enormous wall of Pyr in front of her, her fatigue all but forgotten now that a new source of wonder was presented to her. Around them, homins of all races were assembled in a confusing flurry of activity. She had never seen so many different sorts of people in one place. All were weary, some still shocked or sad, others determined.
Seeing her daughter once again captivated by their surroundings, the Matis smiled, thankful for the distraction. The journey had been difficult for both mother and child, every muscle seemed to hurt and the heat was scorching. Of all places, why did their exile have to take them to the Desert? She worried that some Fyros might assault them. Life had always been difficult for their poor family, she knew not to expect help from most people. Now, more than ever, they were in a hostile environment. Would laws here protect Matis from the local population? Would laws even be upheld, in such a dire situation? Who would waste time to help two poor refugees, two nobodies, in the land of their secular enemies? But the Fyros, like everybody else, seemed to have better things to do than pay attention to them. They too, were preparing to abandon their home.
And so, they went on.
---------------------------------------------------------
Thieft
---------------------------------------------------------
In the hustle and bustle of the recently populated refuge, huddled up in a corner, barely visible between crates and bags not yet unpacked, was the small shivering form of a Matis child. She had been sitting here for hours now, ever since the procession of refugees had been transported there. No one seemed to pay attention to her, no one seemed to even notice her presence. Dried tears had left tracks on her cheeks and she stared at nothing, immobile. All she could see was a repeat of the last few hours before reaching safety, again and again.
She had been exhausted by the long trek. She had had no idea how long they had been walking. Her mother hadn't been able to carry her often, since she was tired out herself from carrying their bag. Their cortege had been attacked several times already, by kitins or other hostile creatures she had never seen before, with names she couldn't remember.
Suddenly, there had been cries, soon followed by sounds of battle, alien roars and screams of pain. It was deafening. Everybody was running, fighting, shouting. She heard someone swear loudly in a foreign language not very far from her. She thinks she heard the name "kitin" at some point. She was knocked over, she couldn't tell by who or what. She had no idea what was happening, her blood was pounding in her ears, her heart hammering in her ribcage, her Mom, where was her Mom?
She couldn't recall exactly what had happened then. Panic had filled her, there was a lot of noise. People were running, she had been dragged along and somehow she had ended up here, in the refuge.
At first, she had wandered around the place, calling for her mother. Sometimes, a homin would stop and look at her, but none of them knew where her mother was, all they did was look at her with pity and shake their head sadly before going their own way. Everyone was tired, injured, grieving. She was scared and she couldn't find her Mom.
Eventually, despair and exhaustion had caught up with her, and she had sagged down near a crate and cried herself to sleep.
She was awake, now, had been for a while. She had no energy left for crying, and no idea what to do. She wanted her mother to find her and everything would be okay. She wanted anyone to find her and help her. She was hungry, but she was used to it - they hadn't been able to eat everyday before the journey anyway. She didn't know what to do.
So she waited.
For hours she stared apathetically, wondering when someone would come to her. She still hoped that her mother would find her, but she knew the looks that were given to her earlier - she wasn't stupid, she had heard people talk, seen them cry for the dead after the attack.
Still, she waited.
Hours turned to days, her belly started to ache, but nobody took notice of her. Sometimes, she would fall asleep, waking up disoriented until she remembered where she was. How she was. Alone.
Then she would resume her waiting.
She had never felt so weak in her life, she didn't think she would be able to stand up even if she wanted to. She knew she had to wait, but she wasn't sure for what any more. Was it someone? Yes, someone was supposed to help her. Help her how? Who? No one was paying her any attention. Did anyone know her here? No, probably not, she decided. So what did that mean? What was she to do? How long had she been here anyway? Her belly hurt so much. She didn't think she had ever spent so much time without food. Before The Journey, even during hard times, her mother would make sure she had at least something to eat once a day, occasionally every other day. She wasn't picky, she wasn't the kind to complain, she knew it never helped anyway. But now it hurt. And she was so weak. Was she dying? Was that how it felt? Would she just die here, without anyone paying attention?
Something in her started to burn. A warmth that gave her energy. It was probably something akin to wrath, though she didn't stop to examine it. All of this, it wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to be this way. She didn't want it to be like that. She felt like screaming but she didn't think she had the strength. Her features, that had remained apathetic so far, twisted into a frown. Her empty eyes, now ablaze with anger and frustration, started to watch her surroundings again. She looked at the people who were passing her without a glance, and she hated them for it.
She noticed a Fyros with a cart of seeds, and her stomach growled. She startled at the foreign sensation: it had stopped doing that for a while, now that she thought about it. The seeds wouldn't even have been considered food before The Journey. Now, she couldn't help wishing she had some to eat. For the first time in days, she stood. Slowly, on shaking legs, she walked up to the Fyros-with-the-cart. She wondered absently how he had managed to bring it here, with how difficult The Journey was. Again, not fair. Fyros-with-the-cart finally noticed her approaching. Immediately, his expression turned into a grimace. "Don't you get near my merchandise, you disgusting wretch! Fyrak! You stink worse than the dead!" Brinn started at the harsh words, the first that were addressed to her in days. Strangely, she didn't feel like crying. Resentment was the only thing left in her, or so it seemed. Head hung low with disappointment, she turned on her feet, ready to walk back to her crate. Abruptly, one of the wheels of the cart broke. The thing probably had suffered too much damage during The Journey, and now all of the seeds were on the ground. Fyros-with-the-cart swore loudly, the commotion attracting curious passers-by, a few of them offering their help. Soon a small crowd was gathered.
Brinn wordlessly stared at the scene, frozen in thoughts. Once again, no one was paying her any attention. Silently, she crawled to the cart, and quickly helped herself for as much of the seeds as she could hold within her ragged shirt. Then she turned on her heels and ran away before anyone noticed her.
Later, she found a quiet place behind an out-of-the-way tent to savour "food" for the first time since The Journey. She felt better. She hadn't even known she still had the ability to run, drained as she was. The rush of adrenalin had helped, too. And now, her stomach was filled.
She stopped and though about her current situation. Nobody had come. Nobody cared. She would have died in her corner, had she not stood up and taken the seeds from the nasty Fyros. Now she felt so much better.
Nobody came, and nobody would. But she could still take the matter into her own hands, and do what she must. She didn't need anybody. She would be all right.
---------------------------------------------------------
Friend
---------------------------------------------------------
It was market day in the Refuge. Among the activity of the crowd, ten year-old Brinn was observing. She had had no luck recently; getting caught last week trying to steal some goods from the stock of a greedy Trykette was only the worst part. She had panicked at the idea of being arrested, punished, who knew what would have happen then? The Trykette looked very, very angry. While trying to escape, trying to find anything that would help her, she had somehow grabbed a dagger that was lying amongst her victim's possessions on a small table. When the victim - who looked very much like a crazed predator at this point - had lunged at her, the Matis had screamed a small cry, closed her eyes and... when she had dared opening them again, she was sitting on her bruised back and the Trykette was lying on the floor. That was her first murder.
She had been so shocked that she had forgotten to take the goods with her when she had run away. She had run, and run, and eventually, had come to, and taken in her surroundings. She normally never stopped paying attention to her surroundings. Thankfully, it seems her feet knew to take her to safety, even when her mind blacked out. She had stood there for a while, still trembling.
She hadn't been able to eat much, this past week. She had been too out of it, her few attempts at stealing food often ended badly, let alone trying to get anything else; she had had trouble getting the image of the dead Trykette out of her mind. And now, she was hungry.
She noticed a young, kind-looking Fyros adult at a stand. He was smiling at every vendor he talked to, taking the time to acknowledge every one of them even when he didn't buy anything, and - more importantly - she had noticed him giving a few more dappers than necessary when he bought those two nice rings. A kind and wealthy man, generous with his dappers on top of it. He'll do, She thought as she watched him put away his newly acquired (but not for long if she had say in the matter) rings. She chose to play the card of the girl running away from a slave trader. With the confusion and indigence caused by the Exodus, greedy homins always found a way to take advantage of other's misery, and some had found interest in this activity. Her act worked, and as she dried her fake tears from her cheeks, looking at the Fyros going back his own way, oblivious to the two missing rings now glittering in the palm of her hand, she smiled. Finally, she was getting back in the swing of things.
"You are talented. You look young, probably around the same age as us, yet you did well with that Fyros." said a child's voice on her left. Despite the youthfulness of the voice, the words were sharp and the last one had been almost spat, so full of disgust that Brinn knew before turning around what she would see. There stood two young Matis, well dressed, clean, standing proudly and looking at her. It took her a moment to process the fact that these obviously Noble children were addressing her. Not to insult, not even to mock or despise, and definitely not to hurt her. They were complimenting her. In their eyes Brinn could only see... interest? That was a first. She was good at escaping attention, but those two had seen her stealing, she had better listen to what they wanted.
As the unknown girl kept speaking, Brinn watched them closely. They looked young, very young, but their manners and speech were those of much older people than herself. Nobles! It was hard to give these two an age. The girl wanted a plant that she obviously could afford - or so Brinn thought, they were Nobles after all, and in her mind they had to be filthy rich - but she still asked Brinn to steal it for her. The thief realized she was being tested. She did not know what to make of it, but the rich girl had dappers, and so Brinn did it. She had had a terrible week, and she was getting a bit desperate for dappers and food. When she came back with the plant, her deed accomplished, and the Noble threw the dappers on the ground, she was on her knees in the blink of an eye collecting the promise of a stomach filled for several days - and that was not even counting the two jewels she had previously taken from the Fyros !
As she stood up, she looked back at the two children, wondering what would happen now. They were quick to hide their disgust at her manners, though Brinn had noticed it, but they didn't comment on it. If anything, they looked pleased. Something passed between the two girls then, and without any of them realizing it, the spark of a new-found complicity had just ignited, born from a strange kind of mutual respect. Relaxing a fraction, Brinn realized she was not in trouble. Somehow she knew that, despite her status, the one she would later know as Isildya was all right.
---------------------------------------------------------
Note: I'll post a French translation on the French RP Forum when/if I find the time.
The last part is common with Isildya's background which can be read here for her own point of view (and more background on Isildya's character). It's in French only. I considered translating it, but can't find time/energy to do it. Maybe later.