:|With Wider Eyes|: {North}
Jun 22, 2012 14:35:52 GMT -5
Post by ᕙʕ•ᴥ•ʔᕗ on Jun 22, 2012 14:35:52 GMT -5
Why is it so warm? Chloë sat cross-legged with her feet tucked behind her as she lightly scraped the knife against the small piece of wood in her hand. Her father had refused to let her stay by herself—he was still afraid that she would have a fit even if she was a full-grown 17 years—so she sat in her father’s shop. Summer heat permeated the little shack her father had set up his business in, causing her to sweat just a little bit as she tried to concentrate on what would be a wooden wild dog. But even the heat had a way of being a nuisance and she eventually had to abandon her project and stand up. She had already finished the head of the wild dog and as her palms were sweating, she knew she could do no more without risking a deformity of the body.
“Father, I’m going to go to the market. I promise I’ll be close by and to seek someone out if I don’t feel well,” she yelled in the direction of the back door. She heard a low grunt which she interpreted as her father’s approval, and she left the shop with sweat beads still rolling down her face. With a quick movement, she wiped off the droplets with her sleeve and walked down the street. Her father generally did not approve of her being by herself and although she was confident that she could handle it, she remembered within an hour why he felt that way. It was just a small discomfort—definitely more mild from her usual attacks—but as she could not locate the source, she didn’t know how to fix it. And that only caused Chloë to become more distressed.
Panicking, she searched for a familiar face or even a Peacekeeper—anyone who could help her or just be near her as she felt the next throb of pain. All her eyes could see were the discolorations of the walls, the improper placement of the pebbles in the next stand, and the bright glare of the sun that burned her eyes until she could see no more. Doing the only thing she knew how to do, she curled up into a little ball and waited for the attack to finish. If only I had brought my project with me, she thought, knowing too well that busying her hands usually eased the situation and soothed her body physically. Hand-wringing instead replaced the only solution that she knew worked and after 10 long minutes, the attack passed.
Each attack generally left her very weak and shaken up, and this attack was no different. But having expected it helped her gather her composure and bring her sight back, albeit leaving a little shake in her steps. She didn’t know why they happened, only that it was a family thing as her uncle also had the same condition. Finally on her feet, Chloë moved around the market again although careful to not look at the stands too long again. But then there was one stand that caught her eye, one that held blocks of wood and rock that if chipped away correctly could be fashioned into a little sculpture of something. The fact that the layout was in a perfect square also appealed to Chloë. Grabbing a block of wood in one hand and a block of rock in another, she tried to imagine what she could make with both of them.
“I’ll take both of them,” she eagerly said, swinging her arm and accidentally hitting someone behind her. She turned around with wide eyes after the contact, apologizing already in her mind. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know there was someone behind and I just got so excited and I really hope I didn’t hit you too hard and I’m so sorry,” she blurted out. She rarely spoke so much, especially to a stranger, but she was feeling so embarrassed that her mouth ran on its own. Conscious that she had just rambled out something of an apology, she blushed furiously as she stared at the ground. She had already forgotten about the two blocks in her hand. “Are you okay?” she meekly asked, refusing to look at the person she had just hit.
