That's No Excuse
07-05-2014, 07:17 PM
Just as a fragile flower blooms, Valeriya had been born. As time passed she'd come into her beauty, and into her thorns as well. It had taken the flood of her mother leaving to wash away her youth, to swirl her about and dump her onto some godsforsaken floodpain. She'd been buried amongst the sand and muck, hardened into the flats, compressed into stone. Hidden beneath her newly fledged adult pelt was a myriad of scars and bruises, newly acquired. Where her sapphire irises had once glinted with youthful exuberance, they were now tinged with a certain aspect of darkness. Roaming the lands had taught her little and less except to expect the worse of others. Rogues would jump you the moment you turned your back. Males would press their suits to the point of violence. Prey would hide when you needed it most. And mother's would leave you stranded. The young woman huffed out a dry laugh and rolled her eyes. What was a mother anyways? At that point, she wasn't sure she'd even know the difference between what she's had and what she dreamed of possessing. The only thing I want, she told herself with resolution, is a sharp set of teeth and a full belly. In the months she'd been wandering the hills and valleys of Alacritis, very little else had mattered. But now she had turned her course for home. Whether she was returning or visiting, well... That would depend on whether or not her mother was there waiting for her. Thoughts of moonlight glinting off of fangs, of clashing wills and the sound of snarls darkened her thoughts. Their reunion would be far from joyous, Val had decided, even if it meant the Queen's heir would walk away bruised and battered. Abandoning them twice wasn't something Val could just forgive. No, what she really wanted was Katja. The warrior had been somewhat glorified in the girl's time away from home. Every contest she'd found herself up against had usually been accompanied by the same strain of thought. Katja would be able to scare that lynx off of it's kill. Katja would know the best way to ford a swollen river. Katja would know the difference between a suitable den and a barren hole one good rainstorm away from caving in. All the things that mattered to the young Valkyrie weren't things Raisa could help her with, the girl was certain. All she'd ever seen her mother do was cave under pressure and fail them. So it was with a grim sort of resolution that Val sat herself on the Ebony border, hopeful that someone would pass her by. It was no longer her home, after all, this land that they had all told her since birth would one day belong to her. She had no right to cross it's border, so she would wait instead. |
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