• Lien & Franz

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    September 9, 2012 /  Background

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  • August 7, 2012 /  Background

  • Lien and Ari

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    July 24, 2012 /  Background

  • My Father

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    June 20, 2012 /  Background

    “I think I have exactly what you need for tonight’s little party, Lien,” my father told me as he led me upstairs and into his room. The term little was a bit of an understatement, it was to be our sixteenth birthday and well, I swear half of Strongjaw and the Ducal Seat had been invited to this ‘little’ soiree. It was a matter of pride you see. We were Noble once more and of course, we had to make sure we out did the pomp and ceremony put on for sixteenth party of the Sinijara boy last year.

    Upon entering he rummaged through a few drawers until he found what he was looking for. It was a white satin case and when he opened it there were two beautiful Tubori pearl earrings lying on a piece of black satin.

    I remember smiling as I took the case and my father laughed. “I gave these to your mother on our first date. She was so much like you, stubborn, lively and troublesome. It took a lot of wooing and courting and my part to convince her to marry me. But in the end, it was, of course, worthwhile.”

    My eyes rolled but I still took the earrings from the box and carefully put them on, admiring the stark contrast between my dusky locks and the exquisite pearls on my ears. “They’re beautiful Papa.” I drew up to tip-toes and kissed the side of his cheek. “Thank you.”

    “Anything for my little raven.”

    It was my pet name, like how some girls are called ‘princess’ or ‘sweet-heart’. My Papa, family and friends called me ‘raven’. Partially for my hair but also because when I was little I was always running around everywhere, flapping my arms and trying to fly. Jumping off of progressively higher things much to the displeasure of my parents. These little exploits soon became a safety hazard for myself and anyone within a five foot radius of me. At first I was just called ‘little bird’, but after a while a was dubbed Raven.

    I kind of miss being called that. Not since I left Tubor. Not since I last saw my father.  And now he’s gone and I’ll never hear him call me that again. No, we were not close… but there were moments, like those.

  • Nineve

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    June 6, 2012 /  Background

    I remember one of the few times I stood up to my twin. Physically at least.

    I kicked her. In the shins, HARD with enough effort that it no doubt hurt. And then I took off down the path leading up towards our house, rounded pebbles flying round my bare feet. Even if she gave chase I knew she wouldn’t catch me; even if I couldn’t do anything else, at least I could run. Faster than her. Trees became a blur and I lengthened my stride, closed my eyes and pretended I was flying, stretching my arms out like wings, willing the wind to catch me and take me away from the living hell that was my sister.

    But of course, my feet remained firmly planted on the sand, my quick dash having brought me down towards the beach. I looked up towards our villa, we were still gentry back then, and it wasn’t quite as grand as Durat manor, but still, quite impressive. Solid stone, stark white with over reaching balconies. Well kept and in relatively good shape, able to stand the worst of storms.

    I could see my older sister, Nineve, performing her balancing act along the edge of the upper floor railing. She always loved to show off and watching her looking down towards the beach, I waved.

    “Nineve!”

    For once, I wasn’t fast enough. I tripped over my own feet and nearly fell, stumbling awkwardly till I managed to catch myself. Still, I did not stop, that brief vision of her waving back and then somehow slipping forward and losing her balance still haunts me even now. And my twin, grinning down at me from the other end of the balcony as Nineve fell to the rocks below.

    She never needed to catch me. No matter how far I run, her hand could always reach me and rip out my heart.