A Nest, a Home
Title: A Nest, a Home
Media: Original Characters
Smut Level: Innocent
Reason: Writing Exercise
Summery: She didn't expect to have a lover. Not one who laughed at her sarcastic jokes and thought she was beautiful when she wasn't draped with precious jewels. She didn't expect to have a child. Not one who wouldn't be hidden away because of political reasons. She didn't except any of it, but that doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate it now that she has it.
Another writing exercise featuring Aywas based characters.
Cast:
Firuza: Youngest child to a family of nine, Firuza spent most of her childhood in a caravan to protect her skin which is overly sensitive to the sun. At a young age she was stolen by a local king who added her to his harem when she was considered old enough. Eventually she ran off with an adventurer named Iris who she loves dearly. Although that doesn't spare Iris from her bad attitude.
Iris: A badass adventurer, Iris left the nest at a very young age to see the world. She tends to hurt herself, a lot, and once flew so high that the wind knocked her from the sky and into a king's courtyard. While recovering she met and fell in love with a harem maiden named Firuza. The pair ran off and took to seeing the world. Iris loves Firuza more than anything in the world and is probably the only person who can put up with her attitude.
Khloris Guari (Khloe): Firuza and Iris' daughter. Khloe is just as adventurous as her mothers but with no sense of direction and almost no common sense. She often relies on her appearance to get out of sticky situations, but if there's ever serious danger she has her mother's poison to protect her. Secretly she's a huge dork and quite the spaz.
---
She had never been maternal. It wasn’t in her nature, nor was it expected of her as a servant of the king. She wasn’t expected to care for his children, or even the children of the maids who could sometimes be seen rushing after their mothers as they cleaned and cooked. Perhaps if she wasn’t the king’s favored toy. That was all she was, after all. A pretty doll set aside for the king and no one else.
What use did a doll have for maternal instincts?
Firuza didn’t mind her life of privilege. She didn’t oppose to decadent food, or silk dresses, or harps carved by the masters of their craft. She didn’t mind because she could remember the before. When she lived in her father’s caravan, constantly hidden from the sun which burnt her fair skin. When her sisters would steal honeycombs from the bees for her bread and that touch of sweetness would have to be shared among the four of them. When her brothers would come back from a failed hunt with broken legs and all of them would go hungry.
The before had been harsh. In the king’s palace at least she could eat every day. At least she was cooled by fans and pools of clear water in his palace. For all her restrictions, for being a prisoner, at least she had the privilege that came with her position.
But that too was before.
Before Iris arrived, falling from the sky in a cloud of feathers that shimmered with the colors of the rainbow.
Before she met the beautiful eyes of the adventurer who lay trapped in her own broken body.
Before they spoke for the first time, quick whispers about nothing important.
Before Iris used her first steps in months to chase after Firuza and confess feelings that were forbidden to the king’s property.
Before Iris stole her from her prison.
She had given up her privilege and position for a chance at freedom with the wild, beautiful Iris. Iris who had left her nest as a child, fleeing her own kind to learn more. Irish who had pushed her wings so hard they broke in a rush of wind. Iris who survived falling to the earth and shattering.
Iris was certainly worth abandoning a palace.
But she was also a creature of her own nature, no matter how much she fought it. Iris wasn’t like her brothers who had already made nests for their mates before Iris ran away. She wasn’t the kind to settle down surrounded by the same people for years on end. But she still had some of that in her. That calling for a nest.
So really, Firuza shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris began disappearing with her older dresses. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris was gone for hours on end and returned with a cheeky grin and no answers for where she’d been. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris spent their ill gotten money on jewels and chains which Firuza never saw after their purchase.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris showed her their nest, but she was.
It looked simple from the outside, made of bit of wood and rainbow feathers and hidden behind flowers and vines. But inside she saw the effort her mate had gone through to make their home. A space in the center for fire, surrounded by rock and with a rock chimney. A large bed for the both of them, covered with the finest furs and blankets she’d seen since leaving the palace. Each wall had gems imbedded in the wood and the chains fell around the nest with silken lengths of cloth made from her old dresses.
It was perfect, though perhaps too big for just two.
But three would fit nicely. And soon they had an egg and their travels were over. But Firuza didn’t fret over that. They were far from her former ruler’s domain, surrounded by those who liked them. Who would protect them from nosy knights. That was probably for the best as they wouldn’t be able to travel with a child. Not for years, at least. But it was a good nest for a child.
Firuza didn’t fret about their inability to travel. She fretted over her inabilities as a mother.
Iris was the hunter between them, finding small game for dinner and assorted treasures from the forest to sell in the nearby town. Firuza’s only gifts were in embroidering shawls for the locals, decorating them with colors from her homeland which were exotic to their new friends. Her work kept her beside her egg, making sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold.
And all the while she would fret about her future as a mother. Iris didn’t sit still well, so it would fall to Firuza to raise the child. To make sure it ate and remained mostly clean and safe. Looking up from her needlework to stare at her egg filled her with horror and excitement. But mostly horror.
Until the day the egg cracked.
With Iris hunting for a rabbit, a Firuza’s request, there was no one with her as she watched the bits of shell fall to the nest’s floor. She was alone when a tiny, clawed hand reached for freedom. For life. Though Iris had said to let the baby free itself Firuza found herself leaning forward, flicking away bits of shell to reveal the wide violet eyes of her daughter.
She washed her daughter with water from the nearby creek, occasionally licking at the clean skin as her mother had done with her. She had to be extra careful with the weak, thin wings. Even after so long with Iris she wasn’t sure how sensitive a baby’s wings could be. Her own people had none and therefore no experience with caring for them. But the tail she knew. She knew how to wash away the liquid that gathered at the tip of her daughter’s stinger, a liquid that would one day develop into a strong poison but had no bite upon birth. She knew how to wrap the child so not to hurt the tail and she guessed well enough how to keep her wings from bending the wrong way.
As she fed the newborn watered down milk, the same kind her mother had fed her, she marveled at the child’s features. Her bright violet eyes had closed but Firuza couldn’t forget how they had looked when she first joined the world. Wiser than she liked on a baby, but warm. Different from her own cold eyes. Her feathers didn’t have the dark green of her mother, nor the rainbows that made up Iris’s end wings. They were a mint green, gentle and muted. Beautiful in their own way.
And she was beautiful. One day she would break hearts like Iris. She would make heads turn and words stop. Or perhaps her beauty would be a danger to her, as Firuza’s had. But Firuza wasn’t a scared child, easily stolen by a fierce king. She knew her poison was strong enough to protect her daughter, and she would. No one would hurt the baby in her arms.
Firuza may not have had strong maternal instincts, but she knew how to care for her own child. And when Iris returned to their nest it was to the sight of her mate rocking their daughter to sleep.
Media: Original Characters
Smut Level: Innocent
Reason: Writing Exercise
Summery: She didn't expect to have a lover. Not one who laughed at her sarcastic jokes and thought she was beautiful when she wasn't draped with precious jewels. She didn't expect to have a child. Not one who wouldn't be hidden away because of political reasons. She didn't except any of it, but that doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate it now that she has it.
Another writing exercise featuring Aywas based characters.
Cast:
Firuza: Youngest child to a family of nine, Firuza spent most of her childhood in a caravan to protect her skin which is overly sensitive to the sun. At a young age she was stolen by a local king who added her to his harem when she was considered old enough. Eventually she ran off with an adventurer named Iris who she loves dearly. Although that doesn't spare Iris from her bad attitude.
Iris: A badass adventurer, Iris left the nest at a very young age to see the world. She tends to hurt herself, a lot, and once flew so high that the wind knocked her from the sky and into a king's courtyard. While recovering she met and fell in love with a harem maiden named Firuza. The pair ran off and took to seeing the world. Iris loves Firuza more than anything in the world and is probably the only person who can put up with her attitude.
Khloris Guari (Khloe): Firuza and Iris' daughter. Khloe is just as adventurous as her mothers but with no sense of direction and almost no common sense. She often relies on her appearance to get out of sticky situations, but if there's ever serious danger she has her mother's poison to protect her. Secretly she's a huge dork and quite the spaz.
---
She had never been maternal. It wasn’t in her nature, nor was it expected of her as a servant of the king. She wasn’t expected to care for his children, or even the children of the maids who could sometimes be seen rushing after their mothers as they cleaned and cooked. Perhaps if she wasn’t the king’s favored toy. That was all she was, after all. A pretty doll set aside for the king and no one else.
What use did a doll have for maternal instincts?
Firuza didn’t mind her life of privilege. She didn’t oppose to decadent food, or silk dresses, or harps carved by the masters of their craft. She didn’t mind because she could remember the before. When she lived in her father’s caravan, constantly hidden from the sun which burnt her fair skin. When her sisters would steal honeycombs from the bees for her bread and that touch of sweetness would have to be shared among the four of them. When her brothers would come back from a failed hunt with broken legs and all of them would go hungry.
The before had been harsh. In the king’s palace at least she could eat every day. At least she was cooled by fans and pools of clear water in his palace. For all her restrictions, for being a prisoner, at least she had the privilege that came with her position.
But that too was before.
Before Iris arrived, falling from the sky in a cloud of feathers that shimmered with the colors of the rainbow.
Before she met the beautiful eyes of the adventurer who lay trapped in her own broken body.
Before they spoke for the first time, quick whispers about nothing important.
Before Iris used her first steps in months to chase after Firuza and confess feelings that were forbidden to the king’s property.
Before Iris stole her from her prison.
She had given up her privilege and position for a chance at freedom with the wild, beautiful Iris. Iris who had left her nest as a child, fleeing her own kind to learn more. Irish who had pushed her wings so hard they broke in a rush of wind. Iris who survived falling to the earth and shattering.
Iris was certainly worth abandoning a palace.
But she was also a creature of her own nature, no matter how much she fought it. Iris wasn’t like her brothers who had already made nests for their mates before Iris ran away. She wasn’t the kind to settle down surrounded by the same people for years on end. But she still had some of that in her. That calling for a nest.
So really, Firuza shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris began disappearing with her older dresses. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris was gone for hours on end and returned with a cheeky grin and no answers for where she’d been. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris spent their ill gotten money on jewels and chains which Firuza never saw after their purchase.
She shouldn’t have been surprised when Iris showed her their nest, but she was.
It looked simple from the outside, made of bit of wood and rainbow feathers and hidden behind flowers and vines. But inside she saw the effort her mate had gone through to make their home. A space in the center for fire, surrounded by rock and with a rock chimney. A large bed for the both of them, covered with the finest furs and blankets she’d seen since leaving the palace. Each wall had gems imbedded in the wood and the chains fell around the nest with silken lengths of cloth made from her old dresses.
It was perfect, though perhaps too big for just two.
But three would fit nicely. And soon they had an egg and their travels were over. But Firuza didn’t fret over that. They were far from her former ruler’s domain, surrounded by those who liked them. Who would protect them from nosy knights. That was probably for the best as they wouldn’t be able to travel with a child. Not for years, at least. But it was a good nest for a child.
Firuza didn’t fret about their inability to travel. She fretted over her inabilities as a mother.
Iris was the hunter between them, finding small game for dinner and assorted treasures from the forest to sell in the nearby town. Firuza’s only gifts were in embroidering shawls for the locals, decorating them with colors from her homeland which were exotic to their new friends. Her work kept her beside her egg, making sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold.
And all the while she would fret about her future as a mother. Iris didn’t sit still well, so it would fall to Firuza to raise the child. To make sure it ate and remained mostly clean and safe. Looking up from her needlework to stare at her egg filled her with horror and excitement. But mostly horror.
Until the day the egg cracked.
With Iris hunting for a rabbit, a Firuza’s request, there was no one with her as she watched the bits of shell fall to the nest’s floor. She was alone when a tiny, clawed hand reached for freedom. For life. Though Iris had said to let the baby free itself Firuza found herself leaning forward, flicking away bits of shell to reveal the wide violet eyes of her daughter.
She washed her daughter with water from the nearby creek, occasionally licking at the clean skin as her mother had done with her. She had to be extra careful with the weak, thin wings. Even after so long with Iris she wasn’t sure how sensitive a baby’s wings could be. Her own people had none and therefore no experience with caring for them. But the tail she knew. She knew how to wash away the liquid that gathered at the tip of her daughter’s stinger, a liquid that would one day develop into a strong poison but had no bite upon birth. She knew how to wrap the child so not to hurt the tail and she guessed well enough how to keep her wings from bending the wrong way.
As she fed the newborn watered down milk, the same kind her mother had fed her, she marveled at the child’s features. Her bright violet eyes had closed but Firuza couldn’t forget how they had looked when she first joined the world. Wiser than she liked on a baby, but warm. Different from her own cold eyes. Her feathers didn’t have the dark green of her mother, nor the rainbows that made up Iris’s end wings. They were a mint green, gentle and muted. Beautiful in their own way.
And she was beautiful. One day she would break hearts like Iris. She would make heads turn and words stop. Or perhaps her beauty would be a danger to her, as Firuza’s had. But Firuza wasn’t a scared child, easily stolen by a fierce king. She knew her poison was strong enough to protect her daughter, and she would. No one would hurt the baby in her arms.
Firuza may not have had strong maternal instincts, but she knew how to care for her own child. And when Iris returned to their nest it was to the sight of her mate rocking their daughter to sleep.