and now we're grown-up orphans that never knew their names.
Who: Loren and Elfangor
Status: Closed
Style: Third-person
Where: North of Hisato
When: Week 15, day 4
Warnings: None!
Summary: Loren is adjusting to life in Kannagara. Elfangor is looking for the woman from his dreams...but things don't always turn out just like you'd expect.
She was standing in a clearing, a small ways away from the woods. She didn't get to close, for fear of scaring them off, and yet, living close to the Hork-Bajir was comforting in a way, reminding her of home.
Home. Now there was a concept she missed. She missed her son, and she missed Champ. She missed all of the lived she had touched, all of the people she had helped after they became controllers and then had won their freedom back. She missed peanut butter, too.
It was kind of funny, the little things you missed.
Right now, she was standing near the woods, having walked there from where she had been staying. She was helping rebuild as much as she could...but the people seemed...standoffish, to say the least. She felt again keenly like an outsider. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to live at the fringes of society, but here she was again. And again, she would eke out an existence if it meant like wringing blood from a stone.
She would do it because she had to. She was a survivor.
She shielded her eyes from the sun and peered closer, looking for movement among the trees. She could use a hawk's sight right now, but she wasn't going to morph unless it was necessary to save herself or someone else. She had promised herself that, and she was going to keep that promise. The war was over, and after...after that dream she had woken up from, she wasn't going to do it again. What she had been given was something not to be taken lightly. It had given her back her sight. It had made it possible for her to see her son again. But it wasn't something that was to be used simply because it was there.
She wasn't sure why she felt that way, but it simply was the way of it.
The mountains towered beyond the trees, and she took a few steps back into the shade, adjusting her robe and sitting in the shade of the pine tree. Her long hair fell loose down her back, and she was wearing a simple, blue robe that had a pattern of butterflies on it. Standoffish the natives might be, she had been able to find a few that were smarter than to turn down a free hand at rebuilding, and she had some spare money from helping watch children and put her hands to helping rebuild. The kimono had been second, third, maybe even fourth-hand, and had small holes at the bottom and in the sleeves, and had been clearly mended more times than she could count, but it was nice to have something that she could wear other than her pants and shirt. Those clothes were saved, because they were from home.
Home.
She looked back toward the Hork-Bajir forest.
Where was "home" anymore?
Status: Closed
Style: Third-person
Where: North of Hisato
When: Week 15, day 4
Warnings: None!
Summary: Loren is adjusting to life in Kannagara. Elfangor is looking for the woman from his dreams...but things don't always turn out just like you'd expect.
She was standing in a clearing, a small ways away from the woods. She didn't get to close, for fear of scaring them off, and yet, living close to the Hork-Bajir was comforting in a way, reminding her of home.
Home. Now there was a concept she missed. She missed her son, and she missed Champ. She missed all of the lived she had touched, all of the people she had helped after they became controllers and then had won their freedom back. She missed peanut butter, too.
It was kind of funny, the little things you missed.
Right now, she was standing near the woods, having walked there from where she had been staying. She was helping rebuild as much as she could...but the people seemed...standoffish, to say the least. She felt again keenly like an outsider. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to live at the fringes of society, but here she was again. And again, she would eke out an existence if it meant like wringing blood from a stone.
She would do it because she had to. She was a survivor.
She shielded her eyes from the sun and peered closer, looking for movement among the trees. She could use a hawk's sight right now, but she wasn't going to morph unless it was necessary to save herself or someone else. She had promised herself that, and she was going to keep that promise. The war was over, and after...after that dream she had woken up from, she wasn't going to do it again. What she had been given was something not to be taken lightly. It had given her back her sight. It had made it possible for her to see her son again. But it wasn't something that was to be used simply because it was there.
She wasn't sure why she felt that way, but it simply was the way of it.
The mountains towered beyond the trees, and she took a few steps back into the shade, adjusting her robe and sitting in the shade of the pine tree. Her long hair fell loose down her back, and she was wearing a simple, blue robe that had a pattern of butterflies on it. Standoffish the natives might be, she had been able to find a few that were smarter than to turn down a free hand at rebuilding, and she had some spare money from helping watch children and put her hands to helping rebuild. The kimono had been second, third, maybe even fourth-hand, and had small holes at the bottom and in the sleeves, and had been clearly mended more times than she could count, but it was nice to have something that she could wear other than her pants and shirt. Those clothes were saved, because they were from home.
Home.
She looked back toward the Hork-Bajir forest.
Where was "home" anymore?