• A dream….

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    July 11, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    “Niya,” I grumble beneath my breath, “g’way.”

    My little sister is always such a pest.  She wakes up earlier than everyone and since we share a room together, I was always awoken.   I peeled open an eye to look out my bedroom window and groaned.  Not even the sun was fully roused.

    “C’mon, Pebble, ‘ Niya nearly whined my pet name, sending an annoying raking down my spine as she tugged on my sheets, “I gotta suprise for you.”

    I turn my face in my pillow and groaned.  I would not wait for my En Passant so that I could get my own room.  Five months, two weeks and six days, I chanted the count down like a prayer in my mind.  ” Why are you always waking me up? Tell me about it later,” I groused as I huddled under my linen quilt.

    I cry in alarm as my quilt is suddenly ripped off me with far too much strength than Niya could muster.  My mind immediately went to one of my brothers and as I turned to hurl my pillow at the lot of my rotten sibling when I saw the smiling face of my beloved cousin, Shirazi.

    “Later, huh,” Shirazi huffed as she tossed my quilt back at me, the metal links in her leather armor clanking as she did.  “Well if I’m not worth waking for, I suppose I can give your gifts away to Niya.”

    “I’ll take ’em, Shirazi,” Niya piped and I glare at her.

    Hoping out of bed, I give my favorite cousin a fierce hug.  I had missed her so much!  She was my best friend and I wanted to be a warrior like she was.  Never did she falter in her manner or speech.  She was a noted archer and on horseback, many felt the sting of a well-placed war arrow.

    After breaking our fasts and morning prayer, the family gathered in the common room.  I peeked from the upstairs foyer as my father entertained the knight’s retinue that Shirazi was a part of.  I marveled at the knight, a northland woman of light brown hair and fair skin.  My mother applied salve from the aloe vera plant on the angry reddened skin of her face.  Many of the northland people suffered a likewise fate when they came to the desert..either that or they fainted.  I stifle my laughter behind my hand and get ready to go downstairs to mingle….

     

    I awaken from my dream and realize with a start that I am not in the home of my childhood but rather Saint Celeste’s Almshouse. About me I can hear the sound of the sleeping women around me.  A nearby window allow me to notice that the sun has barely risen.  I am here in Lithmore.   I will not fail in my task.  I rise and quietly dress, having care not to disturb the other women.  I give my thanks to Father Aylor and make my way to the cathedral for morning prayer.

  • Faded marks

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    July 8, 2012 /  Uncategorized

    I looked down at my hands, swallowing the painful lump in my throat.  The henna hand tattoos my mother lovingly painted in farewell had faded away in painful reminder that I was no longer in the Duchy of Farin. The glorious city of Lithmore rose before me as I walk with the throngs of people from all over the Kingdom towards the southern gates.  Praise Dav and may His glory be forever! I had finally made it!  Baba had warned me that the Northlands would be cool but these flatlands are freezing!  I never thought that I would miss the unforgiving sun of my desert home.  The loose linens I wore did little to keep the chill away.

    I left the Farin traders my father ‘persuaded’ to allow me to travel with some distance behind, despite their protests.  For seventeen years I have been a dutiful and obedient daughter.  I am now on a path that I choose.  I notice the curious looks of the people around me.   I know my height and face covering may seem strange but this is the way of my people.  I find soothing solace in the traditions whose yoke I once chafed.  Mama would call this ironic.  I drop my gaze to the ground before and rapidly blink back my tears; I  had no desire for an audience should my tears fall again.

    The trade caravan master, Farrah, was a kindly and shrewd woman who advised me to make my way to the Alms House and then to all the inns of note of the city.  She said there I would meet people who could be of assistance on my path. I shared with her my hope to be a warrior of the Crown, like many of the men of my family were…like Shirazi was.  My emotions swell as my vision blurs with unshed tears and  I mumble quick apologies to the short pale man I bumped into.  My beloved cousin was gone, her soul purified in the fires.  The Lord now embraces her soul, praise be to Dav.  I know this I should never mourn but by the Chalice, I will let righteous anger burn for the Daravi who forced themselves upon her and released her to bear their foul seed.  I touch the malachite bead of my bracelet, my brother’s parting gift to me to ward against foul witchcraft.

    I push such thoughts from my mind and continue along the road where upon I come to an intersection and notice this road is called, ‘King’s Concourse’.  I notice the increase in patrols and the diversity of people: a member of the Holy Order there, a noble’s retinue clearing the path before their patron, children darting to and fro.  Ah, this is the bustle of the city indeed!  As I continue, my eye spots the back of a home with the familiar clay tiles of a Farin homestead  some distance to my east.  I find comfort that other Farini make Lithmore home.

    I continue along the the crude map Farrah had made for me and my attention is drawn to lush greenery encircled by fence work.   Farrah had labeled this as Paarin Park and I made note to myself to explore this at a later time.  As I continue walking, I come to a street labeled , ‘Church Street’ and in the distance some northwest, I see the rise of the spires of the grand Saint Aelwyn’s cathedral.  Farrah’s map labeled the Alms House as nearby and soon I find myself  at the corner of Park Street and Church Street with the Alms House to the north.  The sun is starting to set and with the winds and dark clouds brooding on the horizon, I am noting that cold even more.  I pull my shawl tighter about me and head towards the merciful welcome of the Alms House.

     

     

    (OOC: Thanks for reading Chapter 1 of Zineb’s tale.  As always, constructive criticism is welcome.   If  there are any players that have been to southern Farin and might have crossed paths with Zineb, thus gaining honorable mention in my future posts, feel free to send me a message and we can work something out.  Thanks again!)

     

  • July 8, 2012 /  Uncategorized

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