Post by buffyandbramble on Dec 29, 2018 6:48:49 GMT -6
Rori had been feeling unsettled for some time now but the source of this feeling had eluded her, much to her great displeasure. It had begun as a small weight that simply sat on her chest, but that had easily enough been dislodged or masked by daily activity and purpose. It had since grown. It was now a permanent sense of restlessness that plagued her, disrupting her focus and forever lingering at the edge of her thoughts, slowly encroaching on everything she was doing until she managed to partially stuff it back in its box for another day or so. Today, it had become too much of a distraction once again she’d shaken her head vigorously as if trying to physically dislodge the susurrant thoughts, before packing up what she’d been doing and trotting up to her lodgings to shut herself away. It was time to devote her full attention to it, as it seemed to desperate for her to do, and deal with it. She was determined to get to the bottom of this restlessness – by identifying the cause she could begin to identify the solution and rid herself of this emotional pest. Once in her room she lit a few sticks of incense and lay down, shifting once or twice for comfort before she went still, her nose resting on the floor and her eyes closed as she slowly began to shut out the world around her and focus in meditation and prayer...
A few hours later she opened her eyes with a sigh. Her introspective reflection had been far less enlightening than she had hoped and she stared blankly in front of her. How was she supposed to lose this feeling if she didn’t know where it was stemming from in the first place? She suspected that it was born of her move to Sterling, but more than that she could not say. Her best guess was that it was a strange form of homesickness, even though she knew fine well that she had no desire to return to Nariah. She missed aspects of her old life but… not enough to entertain any idea of returning, even without the prospect of stigma and consequence for her departure and subsequent return. Nariah, she had realised, had never been a home to her. Though, Sterling wasn’t either, not yet. Maybe that was it.
Her ears pricked at the echo of voices outside, horses calling to each other in the streets and going about their lives. She hauled herself to her feet and stretched, feeling the pull on muscles that had been stationary for too long. Shaking out her wings and refolding them she decided that she would head outside and see the city. Pure speculation on the cause of a feeling she wasn’t even sure she could identify wasn’t doing her any good, and a turn outside would do her no harm.
She always seemed to find a strange sense of peace walking the streets and seeing the horses going about their day. It was ironic really, how a noiser city could be more peaceful. Sterling was an odd place, to say the least.
Once outside she found herself drifting towards the market, busy even as the evening set in. Voices flowed like water around her and her ears flicked back and forth subconsciously, tuning into snatches of different conversations and sales pitches alike as she simply took in the life around her. A few horses still eyed her with distrust, recognising her as Umare and out of the corner of her eye she saw one horse trying to subtly move wares away from her gaze, no doubt fearful that she was here to steal their secrets. Oriole paid them none of them any mind, having numbed to most of the looks and made peace with herself about the rest of them. Many more horses paid her no mind at all, stepping around her and carrying on their business as they should. Occasionally she would approach a stall and look over the offered wares with curiosity, and she always found it an amusing mental exercise to try and guess the purpose of some of the more obscure looking creations on display. On occasion she would strike up a conversation with the creator about them, listening with interest to the enthused explanations and descriptions that exposed creation as a passion here. The market was always an interesting place to see just what the Kawaru were creating, as well as a favourite spot of hers to see how to herd interacted with each other. She often found herself comparing the differences of the Umare and Kawaru, and more surprisingly, mapping the similarities.
Caught in her quiet reflections her she didn’t catch on to the unfolding scenario behind her until it was too late. Another horse had collided with her and she was sent stumbling sideways, tripping over her own hooves and into another’s stand. She lay for a moment, cursing her small stature for being so easily knocked about, before trying to pull her feet back under her. A least it was fortunate that she was small enough to not have the weight to do any real damage to the stall, so at least she wasn’t contending with broken bits of wood as she tried to untangle herself from the mess. Small wings beat for balance as she righted herself, trying to set her feet down carefully so that she did no extra damage to the stall owner’s scattered wares.
Her feathers were ruffled and she herself was disgruntled at the disturbance, but felt otherwise unharmed aside from some slight bruising to her pride. There were worse things that could have happened she told herself. It was just as she was turning to see what had caused all of the commotion in the first place that there was another crash, poles and tarpaulins alike coming down around her along with the shattering of broken glass and the rising stink of pickling vinegar, and suddenly the evening was blotted out and she had no clue which way was what, let alone out of this mess.
A few hours later she opened her eyes with a sigh. Her introspective reflection had been far less enlightening than she had hoped and she stared blankly in front of her. How was she supposed to lose this feeling if she didn’t know where it was stemming from in the first place? She suspected that it was born of her move to Sterling, but more than that she could not say. Her best guess was that it was a strange form of homesickness, even though she knew fine well that she had no desire to return to Nariah. She missed aspects of her old life but… not enough to entertain any idea of returning, even without the prospect of stigma and consequence for her departure and subsequent return. Nariah, she had realised, had never been a home to her. Though, Sterling wasn’t either, not yet. Maybe that was it.
Her ears pricked at the echo of voices outside, horses calling to each other in the streets and going about their lives. She hauled herself to her feet and stretched, feeling the pull on muscles that had been stationary for too long. Shaking out her wings and refolding them she decided that she would head outside and see the city. Pure speculation on the cause of a feeling she wasn’t even sure she could identify wasn’t doing her any good, and a turn outside would do her no harm.
She always seemed to find a strange sense of peace walking the streets and seeing the horses going about their day. It was ironic really, how a noiser city could be more peaceful. Sterling was an odd place, to say the least.
Once outside she found herself drifting towards the market, busy even as the evening set in. Voices flowed like water around her and her ears flicked back and forth subconsciously, tuning into snatches of different conversations and sales pitches alike as she simply took in the life around her. A few horses still eyed her with distrust, recognising her as Umare and out of the corner of her eye she saw one horse trying to subtly move wares away from her gaze, no doubt fearful that she was here to steal their secrets. Oriole paid them none of them any mind, having numbed to most of the looks and made peace with herself about the rest of them. Many more horses paid her no mind at all, stepping around her and carrying on their business as they should. Occasionally she would approach a stall and look over the offered wares with curiosity, and she always found it an amusing mental exercise to try and guess the purpose of some of the more obscure looking creations on display. On occasion she would strike up a conversation with the creator about them, listening with interest to the enthused explanations and descriptions that exposed creation as a passion here. The market was always an interesting place to see just what the Kawaru were creating, as well as a favourite spot of hers to see how to herd interacted with each other. She often found herself comparing the differences of the Umare and Kawaru, and more surprisingly, mapping the similarities.
Caught in her quiet reflections her she didn’t catch on to the unfolding scenario behind her until it was too late. Another horse had collided with her and she was sent stumbling sideways, tripping over her own hooves and into another’s stand. She lay for a moment, cursing her small stature for being so easily knocked about, before trying to pull her feet back under her. A least it was fortunate that she was small enough to not have the weight to do any real damage to the stall, so at least she wasn’t contending with broken bits of wood as she tried to untangle herself from the mess. Small wings beat for balance as she righted herself, trying to set her feet down carefully so that she did no extra damage to the stall owner’s scattered wares.
Her feathers were ruffled and she herself was disgruntled at the disturbance, but felt otherwise unharmed aside from some slight bruising to her pride. There were worse things that could have happened she told herself. It was just as she was turning to see what had caused all of the commotion in the first place that there was another crash, poles and tarpaulins alike coming down around her along with the shattering of broken glass and the rising stink of pickling vinegar, and suddenly the evening was blotted out and she had no clue which way was what, let alone out of this mess.
Post #1
[1033 words]