asteria / d4 amazon (fin)
Dec 21, 2017 6:07:11 GMT -5
Post by gunner, d9 ₊⊹ 👹 ɢʀɪғғɪɴ. on Dec 21, 2017 6:07:11 GMT -5
The stars always speak to her.
A girl born out of cosmic energies. Or so, she’s told. Legend—which is mostly her mother’s tongue—has it that the moment she stemmed into this world, a star fell from the sky’s arms because it descended to the ground as flesh and bones. They named this star Asteria.
(“You’re a star child,” Mother says.)
And, she dangles in her field of gravity, never illuminating the galaxies beneath her skin because she’s meant to be an enigma, a nebula that is not meant to be discovered. They know not of the wonders she holds in this petite frame of hers.
A girl born out of cosmic energies. Or so, she’s told. Legend—which is mostly her mother’s tongue—has it that the moment she stemmed into this world, a star fell from the sky’s arms because it descended to the ground as flesh and bones. They named this star Asteria.
(“You’re a star child,” Mother says.)
And, she dangles in her field of gravity, never illuminating the galaxies beneath her skin because she’s meant to be an enigma, a nebula that is not meant to be discovered. They know not of the wonders she holds in this petite frame of hers.
“Why won’t you sleep, Asteria? It has been hours.”
Perched on the windowsill, toying with a dark strand of her hair and looking out to the night sky, is Asteria. And the peeved voice, her mother’s. When she crawled out of bed, her feet accidentally caught a string and disrupted her foothold. The noise that resonated as she hit the floor roused her mother wide-awake. Certainly, it was her clumsiness but she doesn’t plan to admit to the act anytime soon. (“It was a rat,” She’d fabled.) There was no rat, only her eagerness in see tonight’s starry sky in full lucidity.
“If you aren’t going to sleep, find the rat’.”
A sigh. Looks like she has to hunt down a stray rat later on. Even finding a forsaken creature such as a rat is a price she’s willing to pay in order to see the stars.
Perched on the windowsill, toying with a dark strand of her hair and looking out to the night sky, is Asteria. And the peeved voice, her mother’s. When she crawled out of bed, her feet accidentally caught a string and disrupted her foothold. The noise that resonated as she hit the floor roused her mother wide-awake. Certainly, it was her clumsiness but she doesn’t plan to admit to the act anytime soon. (“It was a rat,” She’d fabled.) There was no rat, only her eagerness in see tonight’s starry sky in full lucidity.
“If you aren’t going to sleep, find the rat’.”
A sigh. Looks like she has to hunt down a stray rat later on. Even finding a forsaken creature such as a rat is a price she’s willing to pay in order to see the stars.
“You look drained and dead. Do you have the flu’ or something?”
Trisha asks whilst swinging a dagger at her. She leaps back and it cuts the air with a swoosh, a silver blur.
Brown curls that cascade down her back, skin as fair as spring, sharp nails and daggers in those holsters tied to her thighs. Trisha. Broken syllables with spirited cadences. An unfiltered laugh. Trisha.
Contrary to Asteria’s blunt fingertips, freckled skin and a bow as her weapon of choice.
She’s been Asteria’s combat partner since stars know when. The way they’re compatible is a riddle to others and themselves. Trisha knows her way around a dagger, sees the clinks in others’ armors and aims only for the vitals. Their very first session concluded with broken bones and a mutual respect forged with the blood they’d shed.
“Sleep decided not to answer my call last night.”
Fingers tauten around the steel of her blade and she drags it down in a bright arc towards Trisha’s plated shoulder, intending to kiss the steel, but it slips her by a sudden ounce of luck. Luck has never been on Asteria’s side, always playing for the other team. Granted, it gets frustrating sometimes but she battles through it, doesn’t let it interfere with her movement as she makes a strike again.
Trisha springs back like a cat and lands with a grace that she envies, a knowing expression smeared across her ageless features.
“Spent long time looking at the sky, eh?”
She makes a smile at her. It’s … comforting to have someone who knows. To have one person. She recalls thinking a trivia, awhile back in the duration of a session — perhaps Trisha is an enigma too, camouflaged in her own otherworldly colors.
Her exit from here is destined to be grandiose, for she was birthed in an imperfect world when she was destined for cosmic civilizations. And, the stars are coming to retrieve what is theirs. The day the skies weep comets, the galaxies beneath her silver skin are to rise, bond and intertwine with their ancestral energies.
— an enigma.
An orchestra of chaos and noise looms over the island. A bear, a bear, the screams say. On the outskirts, another screams and it brings her feet to a sprint, stomping like a stampede would and inclining down slopes, the dirt stinging her lungs – but she doesn’t halt. Trees obstruct sight but the stench of the creature’s fur conveys its whereabouts. Just as she’s suspected, it is ahead of her house, heaving itself against the door. Inside, there’s another scream. Her mother. The adrenaline is perfect, cutting through the powder in her eyes. Fingers on the bow spasm in the rush of it all but she has already seized an arrow and let it fly.
Thump. It embeds itself into the bear. A dead shot.
They skinned the bear and mother pieced together a recipe that made the house smell like grill, peppers, and seasoning. It marked the first day she called Trisha over for dinner; with purely platonic intentions, of course. (
Others are not meant to be comprehend her but the isolation infrequently becomes an agony. Perhaps, enigmas can offer hints to what they are. Enigmas are permitted to chat with others, share dinner and bond. Someday, she’ll have to do all these tasks.
But, by an ounce of luck, today isn’t someday.
Through some strange miracle, luck is on her side today.
She needs a pair of arms to hold her stellar self, because the skies’ aren’t here.
