areto. d4. resub fin

calla RP Tutor 2,120 POSTS Pronouns: she/they last seen Apr 17, 2024 0:08:40 GMT -5 just a litle creacher	areto. d4. resub fin Jan 1, 2020 22:36:36 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by calla on Jan 1, 2020 22:36:36 GMT -5 ARETO PAVALIS eighteen island botanist amazonian "go where your loneliness is understood. leave footprints of compassion along the way." — juansen dizon
	Last Edit: Jan 4, 2020 14:38:45 GMT -5 by calla ⇀ tracker ↼ ⇀ 2024 upat ↼

calla
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just a litle creacher

areto. d4. resub fin Jan 4, 2020 13:41:53 GMT -5

Quote

Post by calla on Jan 4, 2020 13:41:53 GMT -5

deep in a dream / landscape is empty
except for one soul / she's waiting there for me
i fell into her arms / i faintly remember
the sweet song of salvation

Mother Nature was my first love.

Back when I was younger, when the tides were gentler and my sisters had just started to lift their tridents.

I was different from them though, I always had been. I never had the grip for fighting, my palms were too soft, too gentle, and I'd always miss the lined up targets by feet at a time. Mother always seemed to be disappointed by that, because she was a champion spear thrower, a trainer, one of the island's very best, and she had stubbornly refused to let age whittle her talents down.

I had always wondered what made her fall in love with Mom, a shy healer in her youth, who had been stuck with patching her up after every sparring match. They were so different, like they had been born at opposite poles, and I always thought that, if I was lucky, I'd end up somewhere in the middle, get the best of both of them.

Life had seemed so simple then, that it felt cruel when Mother's helm kept slipping over my eyes, or when I fainted at the sight of Mom's hands coated in blood, delivering the child of a girl who was practically a child herself.

I grew up with a sick sense of failure, kept to the backroom of the apothecary and spent more time talking diplomacy with the plants on my windowsill than on my lessons. It was easier than having to deal with the pity in Mom's eyes, or in the coldness of Mother's hand on my shoulder when I couldn't even throw a decent punch. I tried at first. I really did. I just didn't want to let them down.

It was when I turned sixteen, the most troubling part of anyone's life, that I decided that maybe I didn't belong with a colony of warriors after all, decided that I needed to try and find a place on my own, and took off to the mainland, nabbed one of the little rowboats and only looked back once.

I met my second love there, a girl who moved like a thunderstorm and sang like a swan. We drifted together like how sea glass drifts to shore, something unwanted becoming something new and beautiful. She was everything I needed and everything I didn't, hiding away in the concrete confines of the district. And we lasted a whole year. A whole year of slow dances in the kitchen and stealing blankets and sharing bottles of wine down by the docks.

But maybe I was homesick, or the stale air of urban Four just didn't agree with me. The buildings in the square seemed to reach up to the clouds and made me claustrophobic, the stench of pollution was suddenly overwhelming. Nothing ever grew in the city and the few times I tried to plant pansies, they had wilted within a week.

It became fitting.

Eventually, I had wished for the open air of the island more than I wished to struggle for her.

Perhaps that made me weak.

And Mother wasn't pleased to see me back, not at first. The moment I set foot on the sand, I knew I was in for the lecture of a lifetime. I just had to get through her idea of the silent treatment first. But Mom, ever the saint, just called her petty, kissed her cheek and brought me into her arms like I was a baby again.

Even though I didn't deserve it.

I tried to make it up to her instead, took shifts at the apothecary and tended to the flowers out back, never once complained about the more dangerous variety of greenery that she was so attentive to. I even let her convince me to go back to training. If only for a little while.

I helped her hang rosemary sprigs from the ceiling beams, crushed hemlock and oleander to coat arrowheads with. I wove daisies into the scraped knees of girls who came to us straight after training and gave them salves to soothe their sore muscles. I took good care of them, and they took care of me.

I reacquainted myself with the life I didn't think I wanted, after seeing the alternative, and found that maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

king tuff — no man's land

Last Edit: Jun 5, 2021 23:39:06 GMT -5 by calla

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calla RP Tutor 2,120 POSTS Pronouns: she/they last seen Apr 17, 2024 0:08:40 GMT -5 just a litle creacher	areto. d4. resub fin Jan 4, 2020 14:39:36 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by calla on Jan 4, 2020 14:39:36 GMT -5 im gay ripred_bot
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✨ Advertiser 8,136 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Apr 18, 2024 20:10:18 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	areto. d4. resub fin Jan 4, 2020 15:16:19 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✨ on Jan 4, 2020 15:16:19 GMT -5 sweet girl, you are beautiful and worthy and strong!!!!
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”