Burnt Umber #9, Tea Rose #9, Tyrian Purple #2
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #9 (Caraballo), Tea Rose #9 (general benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man what he ought to be), Tyrian Purple #2 (hold up the sky)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Pastels for card prompt "pride"
Word Count: 1,603
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Jay always needs to be the best in everything.
Notes: My last Tea Rose! Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Jay liked to tell people that she grew up in the forest, that its essence was as common and necessary to her as breathing, but that was all a lie. She wasn’t supposed to lie, but she rationalized that it really wasn’t a lie, because she had grown up in a city that was surrounded by forest, and her heritage was of a forest-dwelling people and blood and race memory counted for a lot. Of course, everyone in her training class was Nikolean and thus from the same people, but Jay happened to know that her particular line was one of royalty, and that always counted for more. Somewhere in her family lineage was a High Priestess of the Nikoleans, and the High Priestesses had always been the ones closest to nature, the ones who could feel the shifting of the seasons and the suns’ movement around the world and the thoughts of every animal and the pleasurable stirrings of the plants when the wind rustled through them, so that counted for more than usual.
Her training class was small, only four other students. Jay was proud that she was in this class; it was obviously a highly selective group of students. When Jay reached her twelfth year the terrain training began, which was how the whole business with the forest lie got started.
“What’s first?” Eyth asked, laying flat on her back on her mattress, her arms spread wide to either side. She was the only other girl in the group besides Jay, and Jay approached her as she did the three boys: as a combination of ally and competition. Jay understood that once they were made members of the Sun Guard she would have to rely on them and the existing members of the Guard. She would have to trust them and maybe even put her life in their hands someday. Jay accepted that and was on good terms with the whole group. But there was also an ever-burning desire to prove herself the best, better than anyone who had gone through training before. She was descended from royalty; it was only natural that she would be more competent and talented than anyone else.
“Forest,” Hever replied. He was a small, skinny, clumsy boy who might have been picked on for his perceived physical shortcomings except that he was quick. Very quick. He routinely beat Jay in every foot race they had, something that was a constant thorn in her side. One day, she knew, she would beat even Hever.
“That won’t be hard,” said Eyth. She was focused on something on the ceiling. She did that a lot: looked away or refused to meet people’s eyes when she was talking to them, and she had a breathy voice that gave the impression of someone who was only ever giving a slight bit of attention to those around them. “They’ll just take us out to Lander’s Woods. That’s not even a challenge.”
“Well, it won’t be for me, anyway,” Jay boasted, feeling she had remained quiet for too long. “I know all about surviving in the forest.”
“You do not,” retorted Alen, a tall red-haired boy.
“I do so,” said Jay, crossing her arms. “I was raised in the forest.”
“Your parents are from Ttarren, Dija told me so,” said Alen, clearly not giving up this fight.
Jay decided some judicious stretching of the truth was required. “That may be, but my grandparents raised me, and they lived in the forest.” It wasn’t a lie that Jay’s maternal grandparents had a little cabin and a bit of land outside the city of Ttarren, but Jay hadn’t been raised by them. In fact, she had only a vague memory of visiting them once, when she was maybe four or five, not long before she was selected for training. But they had definitely lived in a forest, and she felt that having been there once qualified enough. She’d been in training since she was seven, after all.
“Why were you raised by your grandparents instead of your parents?” asked Alen. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Because being in the forest is better than being in the city,” said Jay, rolling her eyes as if Alen had just asked the dumbest question ever. “And my parents knew that I would be picked for Sun Guard training, so they knew they had to give me a head start so that I could be the best.”
It was Alen’s turn to roll his eyes. “They did not know you were going to be picked for the Sun Guard."
Cray, the third boy, sighed and said. “Of course they did. We’re all picked for the Sun Guard now. Everyone of our age.”
Jay whirled around and glared. “That is not true, Cray. That’s stupid. They only pick the best.”
“Not now,” argued Cray. “They pick whatever they can get.”
“If that’s true,” Eyth mused, “then why are there only five of us? There should be more if everyone was chosen. We can’t be the only twelve-year-old Nikoleans.”
“We are,” insisted Cray.
“You’re wrong!” shouted Jay. Why was he saying stupid things? Cray was smart. They were all smart, they were all athletic, they were all destined to become part of the elite warrior and spy network that had faithfully served the Empress of Kandel--herself descended from Nikolean blood--for hundreds of years. “Of course there are more than just us.”
“Not pure Nikoleans, no,” said Cray. “My brother told me.” Cray’s older brother was sixteen and had only recently finished his training and been placed as an apprentice with a Sun Guard mentor. “He said the classes have been getting smaller and smaller, and the Sun Guard has been shrinking. He was surprised there were so few.”
“That’s because they’re the elite,” said Jay, shaking her head. “Of course not everyone makes it to become an actual member of the Sun Guard. A lot fail before they get that far.”
“Except my brother said that his entire class became part of the Sun Guard.” Cray was clearly not willing to let this go. “And he said that some of them shouldn’t have been because they weren’t any good. But they were because the Sun Guard needs as many people as it can get.”
“You’re lying,” said Jay, which should have been the end of the matter. “Or your brother’s lying. I should report both of you anyway, because apprentices aren’t supposed to talk to the students and give away secrets.”
Cray looked like he wanted to argue, but he shut his mouth. Jay smiled smugly. She knew the rules were there for a reason, and any attempt to break them would risk expulsion. Cray didn’t want to be dropped from the training class, and Jay knew she would be able to hold this over his head for a long time.
“That was a stupid argument,” Eyth pronounced. She was still flat on her back and staring at the ceiling. “A waste of time.”
“You can talk,” said Hever. “What have you been doing except laying there all day?”
“I’m thinking,” said Eyth, “Our first task is forest, and while you’re all arguing I’m thinking of survival tactics. I’ll win this one.”
“No,” said Jay, “because I was raised in the forest.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, unless you had to survive in it, too.”
“I did,” said Jay.
“Oh, stop it,” said Alen. “You’ll say anything. No one believes you anymore.”
“I did!” Jay insisted. “There was a flood and my grandparents’ house was ruined. We had to climb a tall tree to keep from drowning, and they showed me how to survive by eating bark and fashioning clothes out of leaves-because the flood happened in the middle of the night and we only had night clothes on, which were soaked because of the flood and we had to get rid of them because it was winter and they froze outside.”
“How did you make clothes out of leaves if it was winter?” said Cray.
She glared at him. “They were pine trees.”
“So you made clothes out of pine needles?” Cray looked skeptical, and it drove Jay crazy.
“Yes!” she shouted. “And it was hard but I did it!”
“I believe you even less now,” sniffed Alen. “You can’t make clothes out of pine needles.”
Jay stuck her nose up into the air. “I don’t care if you believe me or not, Alen. If you think you can’t make clothes out of pine needles then obviously you’ve never had to survive in the forest, like I have.”
There was a short silence.
“I really don’t think you can make clothes out of pine needles,” said Eyth.
“You’re all just a bunch of city kids who don’t know anything, and I’m tired of your presence.” Jay felt she had the right to say that, being descended from royalty and all, and also because she wasn’t one to suffer fools, but she also knew it would be pushing too hard to try and make them leave the room. So she settled for huffing out herself, making like she was headed outside, but as soon as she was in the hallway and away from prying eyes she turned left and headed toward the library. If Eyth was thinking up survival tactics, then Jay would have to as well. She would read as much about the forest as possible, and when they had to do the survival training she would be better than all of them, and show them that she wasn’t lying, not really.
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #9 (Caraballo), Tea Rose #9 (general benevolence, but not general friendship, made a man what he ought to be), Tyrian Purple #2 (hold up the sky)
Styles/Supplies: Canvas, Pastels for card prompt "pride"
Word Count: 1,603
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Jay always needs to be the best in everything.
Notes: My last Tea Rose! Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Jay liked to tell people that she grew up in the forest, that its essence was as common and necessary to her as breathing, but that was all a lie. She wasn’t supposed to lie, but she rationalized that it really wasn’t a lie, because she had grown up in a city that was surrounded by forest, and her heritage was of a forest-dwelling people and blood and race memory counted for a lot. Of course, everyone in her training class was Nikolean and thus from the same people, but Jay happened to know that her particular line was one of royalty, and that always counted for more. Somewhere in her family lineage was a High Priestess of the Nikoleans, and the High Priestesses had always been the ones closest to nature, the ones who could feel the shifting of the seasons and the suns’ movement around the world and the thoughts of every animal and the pleasurable stirrings of the plants when the wind rustled through them, so that counted for more than usual.
Her training class was small, only four other students. Jay was proud that she was in this class; it was obviously a highly selective group of students. When Jay reached her twelfth year the terrain training began, which was how the whole business with the forest lie got started.
“What’s first?” Eyth asked, laying flat on her back on her mattress, her arms spread wide to either side. She was the only other girl in the group besides Jay, and Jay approached her as she did the three boys: as a combination of ally and competition. Jay understood that once they were made members of the Sun Guard she would have to rely on them and the existing members of the Guard. She would have to trust them and maybe even put her life in their hands someday. Jay accepted that and was on good terms with the whole group. But there was also an ever-burning desire to prove herself the best, better than anyone who had gone through training before. She was descended from royalty; it was only natural that she would be more competent and talented than anyone else.
“Forest,” Hever replied. He was a small, skinny, clumsy boy who might have been picked on for his perceived physical shortcomings except that he was quick. Very quick. He routinely beat Jay in every foot race they had, something that was a constant thorn in her side. One day, she knew, she would beat even Hever.
“That won’t be hard,” said Eyth. She was focused on something on the ceiling. She did that a lot: looked away or refused to meet people’s eyes when she was talking to them, and she had a breathy voice that gave the impression of someone who was only ever giving a slight bit of attention to those around them. “They’ll just take us out to Lander’s Woods. That’s not even a challenge.”
“Well, it won’t be for me, anyway,” Jay boasted, feeling she had remained quiet for too long. “I know all about surviving in the forest.”
“You do not,” retorted Alen, a tall red-haired boy.
“I do so,” said Jay, crossing her arms. “I was raised in the forest.”
“Your parents are from Ttarren, Dija told me so,” said Alen, clearly not giving up this fight.
Jay decided some judicious stretching of the truth was required. “That may be, but my grandparents raised me, and they lived in the forest.” It wasn’t a lie that Jay’s maternal grandparents had a little cabin and a bit of land outside the city of Ttarren, but Jay hadn’t been raised by them. In fact, she had only a vague memory of visiting them once, when she was maybe four or five, not long before she was selected for training. But they had definitely lived in a forest, and she felt that having been there once qualified enough. She’d been in training since she was seven, after all.
“Why were you raised by your grandparents instead of your parents?” asked Alen. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Because being in the forest is better than being in the city,” said Jay, rolling her eyes as if Alen had just asked the dumbest question ever. “And my parents knew that I would be picked for Sun Guard training, so they knew they had to give me a head start so that I could be the best.”
It was Alen’s turn to roll his eyes. “They did not know you were going to be picked for the Sun Guard."
Cray, the third boy, sighed and said. “Of course they did. We’re all picked for the Sun Guard now. Everyone of our age.”
Jay whirled around and glared. “That is not true, Cray. That’s stupid. They only pick the best.”
“Not now,” argued Cray. “They pick whatever they can get.”
“If that’s true,” Eyth mused, “then why are there only five of us? There should be more if everyone was chosen. We can’t be the only twelve-year-old Nikoleans.”
“We are,” insisted Cray.
“You’re wrong!” shouted Jay. Why was he saying stupid things? Cray was smart. They were all smart, they were all athletic, they were all destined to become part of the elite warrior and spy network that had faithfully served the Empress of Kandel--herself descended from Nikolean blood--for hundreds of years. “Of course there are more than just us.”
“Not pure Nikoleans, no,” said Cray. “My brother told me.” Cray’s older brother was sixteen and had only recently finished his training and been placed as an apprentice with a Sun Guard mentor. “He said the classes have been getting smaller and smaller, and the Sun Guard has been shrinking. He was surprised there were so few.”
“That’s because they’re the elite,” said Jay, shaking her head. “Of course not everyone makes it to become an actual member of the Sun Guard. A lot fail before they get that far.”
“Except my brother said that his entire class became part of the Sun Guard.” Cray was clearly not willing to let this go. “And he said that some of them shouldn’t have been because they weren’t any good. But they were because the Sun Guard needs as many people as it can get.”
“You’re lying,” said Jay, which should have been the end of the matter. “Or your brother’s lying. I should report both of you anyway, because apprentices aren’t supposed to talk to the students and give away secrets.”
Cray looked like he wanted to argue, but he shut his mouth. Jay smiled smugly. She knew the rules were there for a reason, and any attempt to break them would risk expulsion. Cray didn’t want to be dropped from the training class, and Jay knew she would be able to hold this over his head for a long time.
“That was a stupid argument,” Eyth pronounced. She was still flat on her back and staring at the ceiling. “A waste of time.”
“You can talk,” said Hever. “What have you been doing except laying there all day?”
“I’m thinking,” said Eyth, “Our first task is forest, and while you’re all arguing I’m thinking of survival tactics. I’ll win this one.”
“No,” said Jay, “because I was raised in the forest.”
“That doesn’t mean anything, unless you had to survive in it, too.”
“I did,” said Jay.
“Oh, stop it,” said Alen. “You’ll say anything. No one believes you anymore.”
“I did!” Jay insisted. “There was a flood and my grandparents’ house was ruined. We had to climb a tall tree to keep from drowning, and they showed me how to survive by eating bark and fashioning clothes out of leaves-because the flood happened in the middle of the night and we only had night clothes on, which were soaked because of the flood and we had to get rid of them because it was winter and they froze outside.”
“How did you make clothes out of leaves if it was winter?” said Cray.
She glared at him. “They were pine trees.”
“So you made clothes out of pine needles?” Cray looked skeptical, and it drove Jay crazy.
“Yes!” she shouted. “And it was hard but I did it!”
“I believe you even less now,” sniffed Alen. “You can’t make clothes out of pine needles.”
Jay stuck her nose up into the air. “I don’t care if you believe me or not, Alen. If you think you can’t make clothes out of pine needles then obviously you’ve never had to survive in the forest, like I have.”
There was a short silence.
“I really don’t think you can make clothes out of pine needles,” said Eyth.
“You’re all just a bunch of city kids who don’t know anything, and I’m tired of your presence.” Jay felt she had the right to say that, being descended from royalty and all, and also because she wasn’t one to suffer fools, but she also knew it would be pushing too hard to try and make them leave the room. So she settled for huffing out herself, making like she was headed outside, but as soon as she was in the hallway and away from prying eyes she turned left and headed toward the library. If Eyth was thinking up survival tactics, then Jay would have to as well. She would read as much about the forest as possible, and when they had to do the survival training she would be better than all of them, and show them that she wasn’t lying, not really.