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In the dead of the night, the pattering of little feet grew louder as they moved down the glossy floor tiles of the palatial estate the Drakos called home. A four year old with a mop of untamed brown hair went scurrying down the arching hallways, amid pots of prolific green ferns and busts of long dead relatives. She easily found the door she was searching for, gargantuan as it was, though almost everything was gargantuan to a small child. Throwing her tiny weight against the elaborately carved door, it creaked open in an obedient yet slow crawl, making enough room for the little girl to hustle inside, scamper towards the embellished canopy bed, and stretch up on tiptoes to peek over the edge of the mattress.
“‘Meeya!” a mousy little voice whispered emphatically. “‘Meeya I need halp. C’mon!”
And just like that, she was gone, darting back towards the door, bare feet still noticeable moving across distances as young children had no knowledge of the heart of stealth. Four year old Essa of Drakos was determined to see this through, but she required the employ of her older sister Imeeya. She had done her part to rouse her sleeping sibling, at least she hoped, before disappearing from whence she came.
Hoping that Imeeya was following suit, Essa hurried back through the winding layout of the glorious estate, navigating the expansive home with all the flawlessness of a seasoned wayfarer traversing the most challenging of seas. Just inside the small courtyard that bridged the outer doors of the estate to the grand foyer of the main entrance, Essa came to a halt, little chest heaving as she breathed heavily. It had been quite the obstacle course to get up and down stairs, circumvent guards and tread the resplendent mansion to reach Imeeya, and then do it all again on the way back. Essa’s eyes instantly sought out the intended target, finding it rooting about amid flowering bushes and decorative topiaries standing about the courtyard like arboreal guards. Snorting and plodding about on cloven hooves, ears flapping lightly as its considerable mass heaved each step, was Fennel, a middle sized sow belonging to the household. Fennel’s usual home was the stable, but somehow, she’d ended up with far more luxurious accommodations, those being the royal home. Essa quickly hurried off to the edge of the stone fountain with pond beneath it, collecting what could only be a ruffled dress sprawled there. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to wait for Imeeya, certain her sister would come to help. It was very difficult to put a dress on a pig by one’s self.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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In the dead of the night, the pattering of little feet grew louder as they moved down the glossy floor tiles of the palatial estate the Drakos called home. A four year old with a mop of untamed brown hair went scurrying down the arching hallways, amid pots of prolific green ferns and busts of long dead relatives. She easily found the door she was searching for, gargantuan as it was, though almost everything was gargantuan to a small child. Throwing her tiny weight against the elaborately carved door, it creaked open in an obedient yet slow crawl, making enough room for the little girl to hustle inside, scamper towards the embellished canopy bed, and stretch up on tiptoes to peek over the edge of the mattress.
“‘Meeya!” a mousy little voice whispered emphatically. “‘Meeya I need halp. C’mon!”
And just like that, she was gone, darting back towards the door, bare feet still noticeable moving across distances as young children had no knowledge of the heart of stealth. Four year old Essa of Drakos was determined to see this through, but she required the employ of her older sister Imeeya. She had done her part to rouse her sleeping sibling, at least she hoped, before disappearing from whence she came.
Hoping that Imeeya was following suit, Essa hurried back through the winding layout of the glorious estate, navigating the expansive home with all the flawlessness of a seasoned wayfarer traversing the most challenging of seas. Just inside the small courtyard that bridged the outer doors of the estate to the grand foyer of the main entrance, Essa came to a halt, little chest heaving as she breathed heavily. It had been quite the obstacle course to get up and down stairs, circumvent guards and tread the resplendent mansion to reach Imeeya, and then do it all again on the way back. Essa’s eyes instantly sought out the intended target, finding it rooting about amid flowering bushes and decorative topiaries standing about the courtyard like arboreal guards. Snorting and plodding about on cloven hooves, ears flapping lightly as its considerable mass heaved each step, was Fennel, a middle sized sow belonging to the household. Fennel’s usual home was the stable, but somehow, she’d ended up with far more luxurious accommodations, those being the royal home. Essa quickly hurried off to the edge of the stone fountain with pond beneath it, collecting what could only be a ruffled dress sprawled there. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to wait for Imeeya, certain her sister would come to help. It was very difficult to put a dress on a pig by one’s self.
In the dead of the night, the pattering of little feet grew louder as they moved down the glossy floor tiles of the palatial estate the Drakos called home. A four year old with a mop of untamed brown hair went scurrying down the arching hallways, amid pots of prolific green ferns and busts of long dead relatives. She easily found the door she was searching for, gargantuan as it was, though almost everything was gargantuan to a small child. Throwing her tiny weight against the elaborately carved door, it creaked open in an obedient yet slow crawl, making enough room for the little girl to hustle inside, scamper towards the embellished canopy bed, and stretch up on tiptoes to peek over the edge of the mattress.
“‘Meeya!” a mousy little voice whispered emphatically. “‘Meeya I need halp. C’mon!”
And just like that, she was gone, darting back towards the door, bare feet still noticeable moving across distances as young children had no knowledge of the heart of stealth. Four year old Essa of Drakos was determined to see this through, but she required the employ of her older sister Imeeya. She had done her part to rouse her sleeping sibling, at least she hoped, before disappearing from whence she came.
Hoping that Imeeya was following suit, Essa hurried back through the winding layout of the glorious estate, navigating the expansive home with all the flawlessness of a seasoned wayfarer traversing the most challenging of seas. Just inside the small courtyard that bridged the outer doors of the estate to the grand foyer of the main entrance, Essa came to a halt, little chest heaving as she breathed heavily. It had been quite the obstacle course to get up and down stairs, circumvent guards and tread the resplendent mansion to reach Imeeya, and then do it all again on the way back. Essa’s eyes instantly sought out the intended target, finding it rooting about amid flowering bushes and decorative topiaries standing about the courtyard like arboreal guards. Snorting and plodding about on cloven hooves, ears flapping lightly as its considerable mass heaved each step, was Fennel, a middle sized sow belonging to the household. Fennel’s usual home was the stable, but somehow, she’d ended up with far more luxurious accommodations, those being the royal home. Essa quickly hurried off to the edge of the stone fountain with pond beneath it, collecting what could only be a ruffled dress sprawled there. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to wait for Imeeya, certain her sister would come to help. It was very difficult to put a dress on a pig by one’s self.
There had been some who had suggested that being a big sister was a ‘good’ thing, or at least sweet. Imeeya had heard the comments oh, it must be so lovely to have a sister? Don’t they look so sweet together and while she wasn’t one who really appreciated those saccharine-loaded and sweet comments being directed at her person, she did rather like having a sister.
Imeeya had realized that a brother would have been better; for her mother, for Drakos even at nine she had started to understand that would have been the only real improvement, however, as much best as it might have made matters for their home and her mother, Imeeya hadn’t been able to shake that sense that she actually liked her sister, at least most of the time. Not in the middle of the night though, Imeeya really was one of those who appreciated being able to sleep all the way through and as she had to spend a full thirty minutes making sure her hair was braided through with ribbons and such to help it hold its shape and prepare for the morning she really didn’t want to have to be disturbed ahead of time.
Though for a moment, she had thought that it was morning “What are… Essa? Was that you?” it was befuddled with sleep and made all the more confused as she worked at remembering when she was and if that had all been some poorly recalled dream now; for a heartbeat, Imeeya had thought to roll back over and return to sleep once again, until she heard the telltale sound of bare feet on the floor.
“You are going to get me in trouble” it was always her, never Essa who was punished in these circumstances but that didn’t slow her from swinging her legs over and starting to sit up “...this has better not be about getting a ‘snack’ again” it was a muttered set of words now, almost lost as she reached up a hand to cover her mouth before she started to walk or in her case, initially, to shuffle down the corridors as she continued to yawn and rubbed her hand across her face, in order to try and make some effort to at least try and wake up “Essa?! Where are you?” she was following the sounds of the feet and the less than the stealthy approach that her sister had taken.
Imeeya turned down one corridor and then changed her mind, backing up, and then she started again down another. Had she missed something, where were the guards? She’d not come across them yet but that would change unless she got lucky.
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There had been some who had suggested that being a big sister was a ‘good’ thing, or at least sweet. Imeeya had heard the comments oh, it must be so lovely to have a sister? Don’t they look so sweet together and while she wasn’t one who really appreciated those saccharine-loaded and sweet comments being directed at her person, she did rather like having a sister.
Imeeya had realized that a brother would have been better; for her mother, for Drakos even at nine she had started to understand that would have been the only real improvement, however, as much best as it might have made matters for their home and her mother, Imeeya hadn’t been able to shake that sense that she actually liked her sister, at least most of the time. Not in the middle of the night though, Imeeya really was one of those who appreciated being able to sleep all the way through and as she had to spend a full thirty minutes making sure her hair was braided through with ribbons and such to help it hold its shape and prepare for the morning she really didn’t want to have to be disturbed ahead of time.
Though for a moment, she had thought that it was morning “What are… Essa? Was that you?” it was befuddled with sleep and made all the more confused as she worked at remembering when she was and if that had all been some poorly recalled dream now; for a heartbeat, Imeeya had thought to roll back over and return to sleep once again, until she heard the telltale sound of bare feet on the floor.
“You are going to get me in trouble” it was always her, never Essa who was punished in these circumstances but that didn’t slow her from swinging her legs over and starting to sit up “...this has better not be about getting a ‘snack’ again” it was a muttered set of words now, almost lost as she reached up a hand to cover her mouth before she started to walk or in her case, initially, to shuffle down the corridors as she continued to yawn and rubbed her hand across her face, in order to try and make some effort to at least try and wake up “Essa?! Where are you?” she was following the sounds of the feet and the less than the stealthy approach that her sister had taken.
Imeeya turned down one corridor and then changed her mind, backing up, and then she started again down another. Had she missed something, where were the guards? She’d not come across them yet but that would change unless she got lucky.
There had been some who had suggested that being a big sister was a ‘good’ thing, or at least sweet. Imeeya had heard the comments oh, it must be so lovely to have a sister? Don’t they look so sweet together and while she wasn’t one who really appreciated those saccharine-loaded and sweet comments being directed at her person, she did rather like having a sister.
Imeeya had realized that a brother would have been better; for her mother, for Drakos even at nine she had started to understand that would have been the only real improvement, however, as much best as it might have made matters for their home and her mother, Imeeya hadn’t been able to shake that sense that she actually liked her sister, at least most of the time. Not in the middle of the night though, Imeeya really was one of those who appreciated being able to sleep all the way through and as she had to spend a full thirty minutes making sure her hair was braided through with ribbons and such to help it hold its shape and prepare for the morning she really didn’t want to have to be disturbed ahead of time.
Though for a moment, she had thought that it was morning “What are… Essa? Was that you?” it was befuddled with sleep and made all the more confused as she worked at remembering when she was and if that had all been some poorly recalled dream now; for a heartbeat, Imeeya had thought to roll back over and return to sleep once again, until she heard the telltale sound of bare feet on the floor.
“You are going to get me in trouble” it was always her, never Essa who was punished in these circumstances but that didn’t slow her from swinging her legs over and starting to sit up “...this has better not be about getting a ‘snack’ again” it was a muttered set of words now, almost lost as she reached up a hand to cover her mouth before she started to walk or in her case, initially, to shuffle down the corridors as she continued to yawn and rubbed her hand across her face, in order to try and make some effort to at least try and wake up “Essa?! Where are you?” she was following the sounds of the feet and the less than the stealthy approach that her sister had taken.
Imeeya turned down one corridor and then changed her mind, backing up, and then she started again down another. Had she missed something, where were the guards? She’d not come across them yet but that would change unless she got lucky.
What was taking Imeeya so long? How could she possibly want to stay in bed and sleep when there were far more exciting things to do? It was mind-boggling to a small child. Sleep was so boring. The four year old shifted her weight, fluffed one of the gauzy hems of the dress, twirled it around a few times, and once more narrowed brandy brown eyes towards the courtyard entrance. Where in the world was she? With an exasperated huff, Essa scurried towards the grand foyer that welcomed visitors from the inner courtyard to the grand foyer that introduced them to the monumental estate. Peeking out from around the edge of the wall, she looked about, shoving those pesky cocoa curls back from her face.
“‘Meeya!” She whispered hotly, canvassing the shadows cast by the burning lamps here and there, fending off the dark of night in their respective luminous circles. Had she come at all? Was she still in bed like a bump on a log? Had she run into roving patrols of guards? Essa could hear Fennel scratching about, rooting here and there around the courtyard, uprooting a plant here and there, snorting about with that soft pink nose, pushing the dirt around. She was a decent sized hog, weighing in around 260 pounds. Fennel was quiet, as pigs went, but even pigs had their limits, and should she start making her porcine objections known, the entire estate would ruin Essa’s surprise project of dressing her up. “‘Meeya in here!” Essa’s voice was tiny and high-pitched, a hallmark of young children, her face rounder and eyes bigger. Tired of waiting for her older sister, Essa toddled back over to Fennel, the barrel shape that she was, and worked to get the peplos over the sow’s meaty neck and head. Of course it would be so much easier if Fennel held still, and cooperated. The pig blinked her small dark eyes and continued nosing about, knocking over one of the decorative topiaries. Essa’s shoulders crunched, freezing in place as she cast her wild-eyed gaze towards the grand foyer. Waiting with baited breath, she stared at the threshold, should any guards come busting through in response to the noise.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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What was taking Imeeya so long? How could she possibly want to stay in bed and sleep when there were far more exciting things to do? It was mind-boggling to a small child. Sleep was so boring. The four year old shifted her weight, fluffed one of the gauzy hems of the dress, twirled it around a few times, and once more narrowed brandy brown eyes towards the courtyard entrance. Where in the world was she? With an exasperated huff, Essa scurried towards the grand foyer that welcomed visitors from the inner courtyard to the grand foyer that introduced them to the monumental estate. Peeking out from around the edge of the wall, she looked about, shoving those pesky cocoa curls back from her face.
“‘Meeya!” She whispered hotly, canvassing the shadows cast by the burning lamps here and there, fending off the dark of night in their respective luminous circles. Had she come at all? Was she still in bed like a bump on a log? Had she run into roving patrols of guards? Essa could hear Fennel scratching about, rooting here and there around the courtyard, uprooting a plant here and there, snorting about with that soft pink nose, pushing the dirt around. She was a decent sized hog, weighing in around 260 pounds. Fennel was quiet, as pigs went, but even pigs had their limits, and should she start making her porcine objections known, the entire estate would ruin Essa’s surprise project of dressing her up. “‘Meeya in here!” Essa’s voice was tiny and high-pitched, a hallmark of young children, her face rounder and eyes bigger. Tired of waiting for her older sister, Essa toddled back over to Fennel, the barrel shape that she was, and worked to get the peplos over the sow’s meaty neck and head. Of course it would be so much easier if Fennel held still, and cooperated. The pig blinked her small dark eyes and continued nosing about, knocking over one of the decorative topiaries. Essa’s shoulders crunched, freezing in place as she cast her wild-eyed gaze towards the grand foyer. Waiting with baited breath, she stared at the threshold, should any guards come busting through in response to the noise.
What was taking Imeeya so long? How could she possibly want to stay in bed and sleep when there were far more exciting things to do? It was mind-boggling to a small child. Sleep was so boring. The four year old shifted her weight, fluffed one of the gauzy hems of the dress, twirled it around a few times, and once more narrowed brandy brown eyes towards the courtyard entrance. Where in the world was she? With an exasperated huff, Essa scurried towards the grand foyer that welcomed visitors from the inner courtyard to the grand foyer that introduced them to the monumental estate. Peeking out from around the edge of the wall, she looked about, shoving those pesky cocoa curls back from her face.
“‘Meeya!” She whispered hotly, canvassing the shadows cast by the burning lamps here and there, fending off the dark of night in their respective luminous circles. Had she come at all? Was she still in bed like a bump on a log? Had she run into roving patrols of guards? Essa could hear Fennel scratching about, rooting here and there around the courtyard, uprooting a plant here and there, snorting about with that soft pink nose, pushing the dirt around. She was a decent sized hog, weighing in around 260 pounds. Fennel was quiet, as pigs went, but even pigs had their limits, and should she start making her porcine objections known, the entire estate would ruin Essa’s surprise project of dressing her up. “‘Meeya in here!” Essa’s voice was tiny and high-pitched, a hallmark of young children, her face rounder and eyes bigger. Tired of waiting for her older sister, Essa toddled back over to Fennel, the barrel shape that she was, and worked to get the peplos over the sow’s meaty neck and head. Of course it would be so much easier if Fennel held still, and cooperated. The pig blinked her small dark eyes and continued nosing about, knocking over one of the decorative topiaries. Essa’s shoulders crunched, freezing in place as she cast her wild-eyed gaze towards the grand foyer. Waiting with baited breath, she stared at the threshold, should any guards come busting through in response to the noise.
It was too early for this; or late. Either way, Imeeya wanted to be in bed. She had developed this rather healthy attitude to being in bed during the night, asleep, and now her sister had come along and ruined it all. Why? That was the ringing question, though not quite loud enough to chase all the sand from Hypnos and his efforts or make sure that she woke up anyone else. The latter might be a good idea, at least in the long term as Imeeya really didn’t want to have to spend her time explaining that none of this was her fault especially when it usually didn’t work.
She was the oldest and should know better, what that had to do with situations like this one. Imeeya still failed to immediately grasp but she had learned the wisdom of not questioning when that kind of logic was applied.
Far too often.
“Why is there a pig in here?” it was a stupid question, one that Imeeya knew her waking mind would have immediately dismissed, because it was obvious why Essa had done something had brought the animal in. But Why?! Imeeya blinked slowly and then rubbed a hand over her eyes “I am seeing a pig, yes? This is not a dream, Essa! What were you thinking?” she moved over to her sister, skidding slightly on the floor as she misjudged her speed and the force before landing rather haplessly on the floor. Mercifully, on her bottom but still. Not fun.
This was rapidly becoming a case of her not liking this, not even a little bit “Essa, tell me that isn’t a peplos?” it would be nice to have something she was seeing be an illusion, or some element of a dream. If it was the latter, then Imeeya really needed to avoid eating olives before her bedtime, she’d only snuck a few but perhaps they should be excluded entirely now. Should this actually be the result, then it was a firm point for her to want to end up avoiding the whole experience in the future.
“...Essa…” she repeated her sister’s name, getting herself back up to standing again as she dusted her hands down her front and tried to look at least a little bit like their mother did when she was angry at them and giving a lecture or reprimand. It might have been more effective if she’d not just been on the ground or had a full night’s sleep.
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It was too early for this; or late. Either way, Imeeya wanted to be in bed. She had developed this rather healthy attitude to being in bed during the night, asleep, and now her sister had come along and ruined it all. Why? That was the ringing question, though not quite loud enough to chase all the sand from Hypnos and his efforts or make sure that she woke up anyone else. The latter might be a good idea, at least in the long term as Imeeya really didn’t want to have to spend her time explaining that none of this was her fault especially when it usually didn’t work.
She was the oldest and should know better, what that had to do with situations like this one. Imeeya still failed to immediately grasp but she had learned the wisdom of not questioning when that kind of logic was applied.
Far too often.
“Why is there a pig in here?” it was a stupid question, one that Imeeya knew her waking mind would have immediately dismissed, because it was obvious why Essa had done something had brought the animal in. But Why?! Imeeya blinked slowly and then rubbed a hand over her eyes “I am seeing a pig, yes? This is not a dream, Essa! What were you thinking?” she moved over to her sister, skidding slightly on the floor as she misjudged her speed and the force before landing rather haplessly on the floor. Mercifully, on her bottom but still. Not fun.
This was rapidly becoming a case of her not liking this, not even a little bit “Essa, tell me that isn’t a peplos?” it would be nice to have something she was seeing be an illusion, or some element of a dream. If it was the latter, then Imeeya really needed to avoid eating olives before her bedtime, she’d only snuck a few but perhaps they should be excluded entirely now. Should this actually be the result, then it was a firm point for her to want to end up avoiding the whole experience in the future.
“...Essa…” she repeated her sister’s name, getting herself back up to standing again as she dusted her hands down her front and tried to look at least a little bit like their mother did when she was angry at them and giving a lecture or reprimand. It might have been more effective if she’d not just been on the ground or had a full night’s sleep.
It was too early for this; or late. Either way, Imeeya wanted to be in bed. She had developed this rather healthy attitude to being in bed during the night, asleep, and now her sister had come along and ruined it all. Why? That was the ringing question, though not quite loud enough to chase all the sand from Hypnos and his efforts or make sure that she woke up anyone else. The latter might be a good idea, at least in the long term as Imeeya really didn’t want to have to spend her time explaining that none of this was her fault especially when it usually didn’t work.
She was the oldest and should know better, what that had to do with situations like this one. Imeeya still failed to immediately grasp but she had learned the wisdom of not questioning when that kind of logic was applied.
Far too often.
“Why is there a pig in here?” it was a stupid question, one that Imeeya knew her waking mind would have immediately dismissed, because it was obvious why Essa had done something had brought the animal in. But Why?! Imeeya blinked slowly and then rubbed a hand over her eyes “I am seeing a pig, yes? This is not a dream, Essa! What were you thinking?” she moved over to her sister, skidding slightly on the floor as she misjudged her speed and the force before landing rather haplessly on the floor. Mercifully, on her bottom but still. Not fun.
This was rapidly becoming a case of her not liking this, not even a little bit “Essa, tell me that isn’t a peplos?” it would be nice to have something she was seeing be an illusion, or some element of a dream. If it was the latter, then Imeeya really needed to avoid eating olives before her bedtime, she’d only snuck a few but perhaps they should be excluded entirely now. Should this actually be the result, then it was a firm point for her to want to end up avoiding the whole experience in the future.
“...Essa…” she repeated her sister’s name, getting herself back up to standing again as she dusted her hands down her front and tried to look at least a little bit like their mother did when she was angry at them and giving a lecture or reprimand. It might have been more effective if she’d not just been on the ground or had a full night’s sleep.
What came busting in, thankfully, was no guard. It was Imeeya! Finally! How could she not wanna get in on this?! How could she be lagging behind when there was so much excitement to be had? How could anyone be more interested in sleep than this??
“Why is there a pig in here? I am seeing a pig, yes? This is not a dream, Essa! What were you thinking?”
Imeeya’s voice pierced the silence. Fennel, for all of her buxom enormity, remained unflappable, grunting here and there, rifling about the elaborate gardens of the courtyard, with creeping vines, hanging planters spilling over with ivies and flowering plants. Essa’s tiny face peered towards her older sister as she made her undisputed entrance. So enthusiastic was the nine year old that her feet got out from under her, landing her thoroughly on her backside. It wasn’t often that a four year old had anything on those older, cuz nearly everyone she encountered was, but Imeeya seemed thoroughly clueless about this endeavor, and Essa would dutifully fill her in, if not slightly exasperated while doing so.
“Essa, tell me that isn’t a peplos?”
With an adorable sigh of her little body, Essa, almost shook her head, shaking that untamed head of chocolate brown locks. “‘Meeya...we don’ have time to play ‘round,” the smaller child huffed. “Marijka says her pig can do tricks, and goes to tea parties. She says pigs are smart and that her pig is better than everyone else,” Essa’s higher pitched voice laid out the catastrophic dilemma she was facing. Marijka had issued a challenge, and who were the Drakos to back down. It was as important as trying not to break conte crayons in writing class. Essa did her best to corral in Fennel, at least against one of the larger potted trees. “This is serious, ‘Meeya,” she sounded comically exasperated that her sister could not appreciate what a predicament this was. In Essa’s underdeveloped and simplistic mind, there was absolutely no question that House Drakos would not be outdone. SURELY House Drakos could tout their fantastic hogs with everyone else.
“I have very short amount of time to train Fennel, ‘Meeya. I need your halp. She had to look nice to attend tea,” Essa continued, satisfied that she’d belayed any questions her sister had, and squared things away. Now it was time to get to business. And they had one of their mother, Princess Tythra's, most expensive peplos to put on Fennel so she looked fabulous for any upcoming social setting. “I canno’ get her leg in the sleeve. She too big for me. I need halp.”
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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What came busting in, thankfully, was no guard. It was Imeeya! Finally! How could she not wanna get in on this?! How could she be lagging behind when there was so much excitement to be had? How could anyone be more interested in sleep than this??
“Why is there a pig in here? I am seeing a pig, yes? This is not a dream, Essa! What were you thinking?”
Imeeya’s voice pierced the silence. Fennel, for all of her buxom enormity, remained unflappable, grunting here and there, rifling about the elaborate gardens of the courtyard, with creeping vines, hanging planters spilling over with ivies and flowering plants. Essa’s tiny face peered towards her older sister as she made her undisputed entrance. So enthusiastic was the nine year old that her feet got out from under her, landing her thoroughly on her backside. It wasn’t often that a four year old had anything on those older, cuz nearly everyone she encountered was, but Imeeya seemed thoroughly clueless about this endeavor, and Essa would dutifully fill her in, if not slightly exasperated while doing so.
“Essa, tell me that isn’t a peplos?”
With an adorable sigh of her little body, Essa, almost shook her head, shaking that untamed head of chocolate brown locks. “‘Meeya...we don’ have time to play ‘round,” the smaller child huffed. “Marijka says her pig can do tricks, and goes to tea parties. She says pigs are smart and that her pig is better than everyone else,” Essa’s higher pitched voice laid out the catastrophic dilemma she was facing. Marijka had issued a challenge, and who were the Drakos to back down. It was as important as trying not to break conte crayons in writing class. Essa did her best to corral in Fennel, at least against one of the larger potted trees. “This is serious, ‘Meeya,” she sounded comically exasperated that her sister could not appreciate what a predicament this was. In Essa’s underdeveloped and simplistic mind, there was absolutely no question that House Drakos would not be outdone. SURELY House Drakos could tout their fantastic hogs with everyone else.
“I have very short amount of time to train Fennel, ‘Meeya. I need your halp. She had to look nice to attend tea,” Essa continued, satisfied that she’d belayed any questions her sister had, and squared things away. Now it was time to get to business. And they had one of their mother, Princess Tythra's, most expensive peplos to put on Fennel so she looked fabulous for any upcoming social setting. “I canno’ get her leg in the sleeve. She too big for me. I need halp.”
What came busting in, thankfully, was no guard. It was Imeeya! Finally! How could she not wanna get in on this?! How could she be lagging behind when there was so much excitement to be had? How could anyone be more interested in sleep than this??
“Why is there a pig in here? I am seeing a pig, yes? This is not a dream, Essa! What were you thinking?”
Imeeya’s voice pierced the silence. Fennel, for all of her buxom enormity, remained unflappable, grunting here and there, rifling about the elaborate gardens of the courtyard, with creeping vines, hanging planters spilling over with ivies and flowering plants. Essa’s tiny face peered towards her older sister as she made her undisputed entrance. So enthusiastic was the nine year old that her feet got out from under her, landing her thoroughly on her backside. It wasn’t often that a four year old had anything on those older, cuz nearly everyone she encountered was, but Imeeya seemed thoroughly clueless about this endeavor, and Essa would dutifully fill her in, if not slightly exasperated while doing so.
“Essa, tell me that isn’t a peplos?”
With an adorable sigh of her little body, Essa, almost shook her head, shaking that untamed head of chocolate brown locks. “‘Meeya...we don’ have time to play ‘round,” the smaller child huffed. “Marijka says her pig can do tricks, and goes to tea parties. She says pigs are smart and that her pig is better than everyone else,” Essa’s higher pitched voice laid out the catastrophic dilemma she was facing. Marijka had issued a challenge, and who were the Drakos to back down. It was as important as trying not to break conte crayons in writing class. Essa did her best to corral in Fennel, at least against one of the larger potted trees. “This is serious, ‘Meeya,” she sounded comically exasperated that her sister could not appreciate what a predicament this was. In Essa’s underdeveloped and simplistic mind, there was absolutely no question that House Drakos would not be outdone. SURELY House Drakos could tout their fantastic hogs with everyone else.
“I have very short amount of time to train Fennel, ‘Meeya. I need your halp. She had to look nice to attend tea,” Essa continued, satisfied that she’d belayed any questions her sister had, and squared things away. Now it was time to get to business. And they had one of their mother, Princess Tythra's, most expensive peplos to put on Fennel so she looked fabulous for any upcoming social setting. “I canno’ get her leg in the sleeve. She too big for me. I need halp.”
Yes, clearly this was a dream.
It had to be, that was logic, right there, cold, hard and rather like the floor, she had landed on. However, that didn’t even begin to provide her with any kind of comfort that might have enabled her to even begin to have the inclination to believe that it was the truth. She might be capable of many things but that kind of self-deception might have made that actually work.
Imeeya was perfectly sure that it would have prevented the rest of what was being said from coming out of her sister’s mouth.
She might have even protested loudly at that, but it was the middle of the night and Imeeya was under no illusions about how poorly that would be received and also what her little sister could end up being like when it came to her fixating on any single idea. This was clearly one of the instances when she would not be easily distracted or even be willing to listen to the otherwise common sense that should be normally applied in these kinds of matters. But then, Imeeya was also only nine, she didn’t really have the same fortitude to resist the stubbornness of a child who had made this entirely irrevocable idea in their heads.
Right now, she was almost wishing for her mother. Almost.
The knowledge was clear in her own head that something like that would have only led to further problems and more headaches, all of them centered onto her shoulders.
“And this is the best time for that? It’s the middle of the night, Essa. People are sleeping!” she didn’t mention that she’d been one of them, surely that would have been obvious “Pigs don’t wear clothes for a reason, you know… starting with the fact that they are pigs” she sighed, already starting to wish she had really just rolled over “If I help you with this, can we go back to bed” because at least then Essa might have forgotten and it would have also meant that the pig would probably have escaped out of the ‘outfit’ by morning.
That was her only hope right now, vain as it might be to have that as any kind of consideration right now. Imeeya was aware she was working inside some very small margins at the moment, she didn’t have alternatives on hand though.
More sleep might have helped or getting an adult but the cloud of ‘getting into trouble’ hung over all of this. Even if Essa wasn’t thinking about it, of course, she never really got into trouble in any case, so perhaps it was just easier for her to wind up dismissing it from being an issue she needed to think about addressing.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Yes, clearly this was a dream.
It had to be, that was logic, right there, cold, hard and rather like the floor, she had landed on. However, that didn’t even begin to provide her with any kind of comfort that might have enabled her to even begin to have the inclination to believe that it was the truth. She might be capable of many things but that kind of self-deception might have made that actually work.
Imeeya was perfectly sure that it would have prevented the rest of what was being said from coming out of her sister’s mouth.
She might have even protested loudly at that, but it was the middle of the night and Imeeya was under no illusions about how poorly that would be received and also what her little sister could end up being like when it came to her fixating on any single idea. This was clearly one of the instances when she would not be easily distracted or even be willing to listen to the otherwise common sense that should be normally applied in these kinds of matters. But then, Imeeya was also only nine, she didn’t really have the same fortitude to resist the stubbornness of a child who had made this entirely irrevocable idea in their heads.
Right now, she was almost wishing for her mother. Almost.
The knowledge was clear in her own head that something like that would have only led to further problems and more headaches, all of them centered onto her shoulders.
“And this is the best time for that? It’s the middle of the night, Essa. People are sleeping!” she didn’t mention that she’d been one of them, surely that would have been obvious “Pigs don’t wear clothes for a reason, you know… starting with the fact that they are pigs” she sighed, already starting to wish she had really just rolled over “If I help you with this, can we go back to bed” because at least then Essa might have forgotten and it would have also meant that the pig would probably have escaped out of the ‘outfit’ by morning.
That was her only hope right now, vain as it might be to have that as any kind of consideration right now. Imeeya was aware she was working inside some very small margins at the moment, she didn’t have alternatives on hand though.
More sleep might have helped or getting an adult but the cloud of ‘getting into trouble’ hung over all of this. Even if Essa wasn’t thinking about it, of course, she never really got into trouble in any case, so perhaps it was just easier for her to wind up dismissing it from being an issue she needed to think about addressing.
Yes, clearly this was a dream.
It had to be, that was logic, right there, cold, hard and rather like the floor, she had landed on. However, that didn’t even begin to provide her with any kind of comfort that might have enabled her to even begin to have the inclination to believe that it was the truth. She might be capable of many things but that kind of self-deception might have made that actually work.
Imeeya was perfectly sure that it would have prevented the rest of what was being said from coming out of her sister’s mouth.
She might have even protested loudly at that, but it was the middle of the night and Imeeya was under no illusions about how poorly that would be received and also what her little sister could end up being like when it came to her fixating on any single idea. This was clearly one of the instances when she would not be easily distracted or even be willing to listen to the otherwise common sense that should be normally applied in these kinds of matters. But then, Imeeya was also only nine, she didn’t really have the same fortitude to resist the stubbornness of a child who had made this entirely irrevocable idea in their heads.
Right now, she was almost wishing for her mother. Almost.
The knowledge was clear in her own head that something like that would have only led to further problems and more headaches, all of them centered onto her shoulders.
“And this is the best time for that? It’s the middle of the night, Essa. People are sleeping!” she didn’t mention that she’d been one of them, surely that would have been obvious “Pigs don’t wear clothes for a reason, you know… starting with the fact that they are pigs” she sighed, already starting to wish she had really just rolled over “If I help you with this, can we go back to bed” because at least then Essa might have forgotten and it would have also meant that the pig would probably have escaped out of the ‘outfit’ by morning.
That was her only hope right now, vain as it might be to have that as any kind of consideration right now. Imeeya was aware she was working inside some very small margins at the moment, she didn’t have alternatives on hand though.
More sleep might have helped or getting an adult but the cloud of ‘getting into trouble’ hung over all of this. Even if Essa wasn’t thinking about it, of course, she never really got into trouble in any case, so perhaps it was just easier for her to wind up dismissing it from being an issue she needed to think about addressing.
As Essa ceased her solo task of trying to work Fennel’s leg into a sleeve, she paused to watch Imeeya expectantly, fully believing her older sister would see how silly her questions were, and agree to help out. The gears were turning behind Imeeya’s eyes, noticeably, as Essa’s ‘logic’ was gumming up the inner workings of her brain. It might also have been on account of the late hour, but the flabbergasted look on the older girl’s face went straight over Essa’s head. While Imeeya wrestled with disbelief this was happening, Essa struggled with Imeeya’s disbelief over all. Once more, she attempted to drop her own brand of reasoning on her younger sister.
“And this is the best time for that? It’s the middle of the night, Essa. People are sleeping!”
With an absolute huff of her shoulders, Essa’s small face tightened into a scowl. “Yes i’ is, ‘Meeya. We hafta practice. Before the dinner. We can’t do tha’ if everyone awake!” It made flawless sense to Essa, whose mousy little voice was still learning proper pronunciation and diction and the like. “She has to practice her manners *NOW* so tha’ when we have tea, she behave very well for everyone.”
“Pigs don’t wear clothes for a reason, you know… starting with the fact that they are pigs. If I help you with this, can we go back to bed?”
“Yes they do!” The sibling volley was short and snappy. “Marijke’s pig wears a dress. And she is not better than us ‘Meeya,” the four year old insisted, almost exasperated that they were wasting so much time having the kind of discussion grown-ups have.
As the siblings argued over how and why one should teach a pig etiquette, the pig in question, Fennel herself, all several hundred pounds of her, had grown bored of nosing about the roots of that one particular shrubbery in the small courtyard garden. Heedless that she was the subject of the bickering going on overhead, the large sow shifted her beady little eyes and with a resounding snort, trotted off away from the girls.
Essa caught the movement and nearly squealed herself, giving chase immediately. And it was on……
Aware something was chasing her, even the familiar face of a human, Fennel objected loudly to being pursued, and with a wild SQUEEEEE she added a few gears of higher speed and darted away, barreling through the open door between of the courtyard and the grand foyer. Moments later, a cacophony ensued, consisting of a collision, and something heavy hitting the floor, with a backdrop of cloven feet thundering away, turned loose in the majestic estate, grunting out squeals and screams as it went.
Busting into the foyer, Essa’s eyes instantly sought out the damage. Fennel had crashed into a small column pedestal, and knocked down a marble bust of King Tython. He lay unceremoniously face down, and lying beside the thoroughly toppled king was a triangular object; his nose.
Essa’s hands covered her mouth in horror, heading whipping around to find Imeeya in order to gauge her reaction to the broken off nose of their uncle the king. “Uh oh….” Off in the distance, a man’s voice could be heard yelling, and another crash resounded, this one of metal, indicating Fennel had snuck up on a guard, or he’d snuck up on her.
“Fennel!” Essa’s focus shifted from King Tython’s bust with meticulously chiseled nose lying beside it to the direction of all the calamity, and as short lived as her horror was about the statue, the four year old went blazing after her run-away pig.
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As Essa ceased her solo task of trying to work Fennel’s leg into a sleeve, she paused to watch Imeeya expectantly, fully believing her older sister would see how silly her questions were, and agree to help out. The gears were turning behind Imeeya’s eyes, noticeably, as Essa’s ‘logic’ was gumming up the inner workings of her brain. It might also have been on account of the late hour, but the flabbergasted look on the older girl’s face went straight over Essa’s head. While Imeeya wrestled with disbelief this was happening, Essa struggled with Imeeya’s disbelief over all. Once more, she attempted to drop her own brand of reasoning on her younger sister.
“And this is the best time for that? It’s the middle of the night, Essa. People are sleeping!”
With an absolute huff of her shoulders, Essa’s small face tightened into a scowl. “Yes i’ is, ‘Meeya. We hafta practice. Before the dinner. We can’t do tha’ if everyone awake!” It made flawless sense to Essa, whose mousy little voice was still learning proper pronunciation and diction and the like. “She has to practice her manners *NOW* so tha’ when we have tea, she behave very well for everyone.”
“Pigs don’t wear clothes for a reason, you know… starting with the fact that they are pigs. If I help you with this, can we go back to bed?”
“Yes they do!” The sibling volley was short and snappy. “Marijke’s pig wears a dress. And she is not better than us ‘Meeya,” the four year old insisted, almost exasperated that they were wasting so much time having the kind of discussion grown-ups have.
As the siblings argued over how and why one should teach a pig etiquette, the pig in question, Fennel herself, all several hundred pounds of her, had grown bored of nosing about the roots of that one particular shrubbery in the small courtyard garden. Heedless that she was the subject of the bickering going on overhead, the large sow shifted her beady little eyes and with a resounding snort, trotted off away from the girls.
Essa caught the movement and nearly squealed herself, giving chase immediately. And it was on……
Aware something was chasing her, even the familiar face of a human, Fennel objected loudly to being pursued, and with a wild SQUEEEEE she added a few gears of higher speed and darted away, barreling through the open door between of the courtyard and the grand foyer. Moments later, a cacophony ensued, consisting of a collision, and something heavy hitting the floor, with a backdrop of cloven feet thundering away, turned loose in the majestic estate, grunting out squeals and screams as it went.
Busting into the foyer, Essa’s eyes instantly sought out the damage. Fennel had crashed into a small column pedestal, and knocked down a marble bust of King Tython. He lay unceremoniously face down, and lying beside the thoroughly toppled king was a triangular object; his nose.
Essa’s hands covered her mouth in horror, heading whipping around to find Imeeya in order to gauge her reaction to the broken off nose of their uncle the king. “Uh oh….” Off in the distance, a man’s voice could be heard yelling, and another crash resounded, this one of metal, indicating Fennel had snuck up on a guard, or he’d snuck up on her.
“Fennel!” Essa’s focus shifted from King Tython’s bust with meticulously chiseled nose lying beside it to the direction of all the calamity, and as short lived as her horror was about the statue, the four year old went blazing after her run-away pig.
As Essa ceased her solo task of trying to work Fennel’s leg into a sleeve, she paused to watch Imeeya expectantly, fully believing her older sister would see how silly her questions were, and agree to help out. The gears were turning behind Imeeya’s eyes, noticeably, as Essa’s ‘logic’ was gumming up the inner workings of her brain. It might also have been on account of the late hour, but the flabbergasted look on the older girl’s face went straight over Essa’s head. While Imeeya wrestled with disbelief this was happening, Essa struggled with Imeeya’s disbelief over all. Once more, she attempted to drop her own brand of reasoning on her younger sister.
“And this is the best time for that? It’s the middle of the night, Essa. People are sleeping!”
With an absolute huff of her shoulders, Essa’s small face tightened into a scowl. “Yes i’ is, ‘Meeya. We hafta practice. Before the dinner. We can’t do tha’ if everyone awake!” It made flawless sense to Essa, whose mousy little voice was still learning proper pronunciation and diction and the like. “She has to practice her manners *NOW* so tha’ when we have tea, she behave very well for everyone.”
“Pigs don’t wear clothes for a reason, you know… starting with the fact that they are pigs. If I help you with this, can we go back to bed?”
“Yes they do!” The sibling volley was short and snappy. “Marijke’s pig wears a dress. And she is not better than us ‘Meeya,” the four year old insisted, almost exasperated that they were wasting so much time having the kind of discussion grown-ups have.
As the siblings argued over how and why one should teach a pig etiquette, the pig in question, Fennel herself, all several hundred pounds of her, had grown bored of nosing about the roots of that one particular shrubbery in the small courtyard garden. Heedless that she was the subject of the bickering going on overhead, the large sow shifted her beady little eyes and with a resounding snort, trotted off away from the girls.
Essa caught the movement and nearly squealed herself, giving chase immediately. And it was on……
Aware something was chasing her, even the familiar face of a human, Fennel objected loudly to being pursued, and with a wild SQUEEEEE she added a few gears of higher speed and darted away, barreling through the open door between of the courtyard and the grand foyer. Moments later, a cacophony ensued, consisting of a collision, and something heavy hitting the floor, with a backdrop of cloven feet thundering away, turned loose in the majestic estate, grunting out squeals and screams as it went.
Busting into the foyer, Essa’s eyes instantly sought out the damage. Fennel had crashed into a small column pedestal, and knocked down a marble bust of King Tython. He lay unceremoniously face down, and lying beside the thoroughly toppled king was a triangular object; his nose.
Essa’s hands covered her mouth in horror, heading whipping around to find Imeeya in order to gauge her reaction to the broken off nose of their uncle the king. “Uh oh….” Off in the distance, a man’s voice could be heard yelling, and another crash resounded, this one of metal, indicating Fennel had snuck up on a guard, or he’d snuck up on her.
“Fennel!” Essa’s focus shifted from King Tython’s bust with meticulously chiseled nose lying beside it to the direction of all the calamity, and as short lived as her horror was about the statue, the four year old went blazing after her run-away pig.
It had happened, it had finally happened, the single moment that was going to result in her mother actually murdering her; Imeeya had heard adults mentioning that they sometimes wished the ground would swallow them up, she’d heard it and not understood. But now she did.
While she had always been the one pegged with the label of responsible when it came to the two of them. Imeeya wore it, shouldered the burden, just like she had done in the past and would continue to do in the future. There were times when Imeeya had dug her heels in; such as the pig when she had tried to find a point of logic upon which to hold onto but eventually Imeeya had chosen to compromise - or had tried. Then the gods had interceded, whichever one of them had thought it best to affect her life and remove a pig from where they’d been and set off this whole series of events. Imeeya wished, longed for the ability to change her life right now.
Imeeya wished for many things.
She wished that Essa had been a boy, that her father had lived, that she wasn’t the oldest, that she had stayed in bed and that the pig had stayed. Imeeya had noticed that her wishes devolved into the simpler and sometimes more likely wishes, she had noticed that but it didn’t change the knowledge that none of them came true. She wanted to see the world do the things that she wanted to unfold and in a way that would make her feel less like she had to always be the responsible one. That sometimes she would be something else, just for a little while. Just occasionally.
Rather like right now, or about thirty seconds before, or forty… or during whatever stupid event had brought Essa and the little twit, Marijke, whom Imeeya personally wanted to see fall into a very deep pit from a very great height “I didn’t say that we’re not better. But it doesn’t mean we do the same. We’re better by not being like everyone else” she had thought it might make an impact but clearly continued to have this hushed argument had been a bad idea, as that had been Fennel had decided to make her break for something else, whatever the ‘else’ was that might have attracted the pig in the first place.
It was a miracle that she only skidded twice more in the run to try and catch up with her sister and the pig, she’d never imagined that an animal that size could move so quickly, let alone that Imeeay would struggle to keep up, she ended up tripping once more before she finally caught up, panting, flushed and serious debating joining in the panicked screaming of the pig.
“No! Essa don’t… wait…” trying to stop the run, trying, always trying and now there was a broken nose. The smallest of positives about this was the fact that it didn’t belong to either of them.
Imeeya was still going to die “...mother is going to …” she didn’t finish the thought, instead of attempting to grab her sister “You need to get back to your room, I’ll deal with this” probably, somehow. The actual ‘how’ eluded her at the moment and it was more than likely that an adult would be coming with the sounds of running children, frightened pig and now falling statuary on top of the rest of what had happened.
But Imeeya needed to protect her sister “Essa, listen, you know… go to bed and pretend that you’ve been asleep and tomorrow we will make something better” or something, she might be dealing with the whole mess for some time but that didn’t mean her sister needed to do the same. She was the one who needed to be responsible and protect her little sister. That was her job.
This character is currently a work in progress.
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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It had happened, it had finally happened, the single moment that was going to result in her mother actually murdering her; Imeeya had heard adults mentioning that they sometimes wished the ground would swallow them up, she’d heard it and not understood. But now she did.
While she had always been the one pegged with the label of responsible when it came to the two of them. Imeeya wore it, shouldered the burden, just like she had done in the past and would continue to do in the future. There were times when Imeeya had dug her heels in; such as the pig when she had tried to find a point of logic upon which to hold onto but eventually Imeeya had chosen to compromise - or had tried. Then the gods had interceded, whichever one of them had thought it best to affect her life and remove a pig from where they’d been and set off this whole series of events. Imeeya wished, longed for the ability to change her life right now.
Imeeya wished for many things.
She wished that Essa had been a boy, that her father had lived, that she wasn’t the oldest, that she had stayed in bed and that the pig had stayed. Imeeya had noticed that her wishes devolved into the simpler and sometimes more likely wishes, she had noticed that but it didn’t change the knowledge that none of them came true. She wanted to see the world do the things that she wanted to unfold and in a way that would make her feel less like she had to always be the responsible one. That sometimes she would be something else, just for a little while. Just occasionally.
Rather like right now, or about thirty seconds before, or forty… or during whatever stupid event had brought Essa and the little twit, Marijke, whom Imeeya personally wanted to see fall into a very deep pit from a very great height “I didn’t say that we’re not better. But it doesn’t mean we do the same. We’re better by not being like everyone else” she had thought it might make an impact but clearly continued to have this hushed argument had been a bad idea, as that had been Fennel had decided to make her break for something else, whatever the ‘else’ was that might have attracted the pig in the first place.
It was a miracle that she only skidded twice more in the run to try and catch up with her sister and the pig, she’d never imagined that an animal that size could move so quickly, let alone that Imeeay would struggle to keep up, she ended up tripping once more before she finally caught up, panting, flushed and serious debating joining in the panicked screaming of the pig.
“No! Essa don’t… wait…” trying to stop the run, trying, always trying and now there was a broken nose. The smallest of positives about this was the fact that it didn’t belong to either of them.
Imeeya was still going to die “...mother is going to …” she didn’t finish the thought, instead of attempting to grab her sister “You need to get back to your room, I’ll deal with this” probably, somehow. The actual ‘how’ eluded her at the moment and it was more than likely that an adult would be coming with the sounds of running children, frightened pig and now falling statuary on top of the rest of what had happened.
But Imeeya needed to protect her sister “Essa, listen, you know… go to bed and pretend that you’ve been asleep and tomorrow we will make something better” or something, she might be dealing with the whole mess for some time but that didn’t mean her sister needed to do the same. She was the one who needed to be responsible and protect her little sister. That was her job.
It had happened, it had finally happened, the single moment that was going to result in her mother actually murdering her; Imeeya had heard adults mentioning that they sometimes wished the ground would swallow them up, she’d heard it and not understood. But now she did.
While she had always been the one pegged with the label of responsible when it came to the two of them. Imeeya wore it, shouldered the burden, just like she had done in the past and would continue to do in the future. There were times when Imeeya had dug her heels in; such as the pig when she had tried to find a point of logic upon which to hold onto but eventually Imeeya had chosen to compromise - or had tried. Then the gods had interceded, whichever one of them had thought it best to affect her life and remove a pig from where they’d been and set off this whole series of events. Imeeya wished, longed for the ability to change her life right now.
Imeeya wished for many things.
She wished that Essa had been a boy, that her father had lived, that she wasn’t the oldest, that she had stayed in bed and that the pig had stayed. Imeeya had noticed that her wishes devolved into the simpler and sometimes more likely wishes, she had noticed that but it didn’t change the knowledge that none of them came true. She wanted to see the world do the things that she wanted to unfold and in a way that would make her feel less like she had to always be the responsible one. That sometimes she would be something else, just for a little while. Just occasionally.
Rather like right now, or about thirty seconds before, or forty… or during whatever stupid event had brought Essa and the little twit, Marijke, whom Imeeya personally wanted to see fall into a very deep pit from a very great height “I didn’t say that we’re not better. But it doesn’t mean we do the same. We’re better by not being like everyone else” she had thought it might make an impact but clearly continued to have this hushed argument had been a bad idea, as that had been Fennel had decided to make her break for something else, whatever the ‘else’ was that might have attracted the pig in the first place.
It was a miracle that she only skidded twice more in the run to try and catch up with her sister and the pig, she’d never imagined that an animal that size could move so quickly, let alone that Imeeay would struggle to keep up, she ended up tripping once more before she finally caught up, panting, flushed and serious debating joining in the panicked screaming of the pig.
“No! Essa don’t… wait…” trying to stop the run, trying, always trying and now there was a broken nose. The smallest of positives about this was the fact that it didn’t belong to either of them.
Imeeya was still going to die “...mother is going to …” she didn’t finish the thought, instead of attempting to grab her sister “You need to get back to your room, I’ll deal with this” probably, somehow. The actual ‘how’ eluded her at the moment and it was more than likely that an adult would be coming with the sounds of running children, frightened pig and now falling statuary on top of the rest of what had happened.
But Imeeya needed to protect her sister “Essa, listen, you know… go to bed and pretend that you’ve been asleep and tomorrow we will make something better” or something, she might be dealing with the whole mess for some time but that didn’t mean her sister needed to do the same. She was the one who needed to be responsible and protect her little sister. That was her job.
Like small children are prone to do, Essa objected to Imeeya taking hold of her arm by twisting and coiling it around to pry loose her sister’s grip and wriggle out of it. Imeeya’s attempt to be valiant was entirely lost on her, as her sister gave her instructions, returning to bed or some such nonsense. How could she think of just going back to bed? With Fennel in danger?
Pulling and yanking and even going so far as to pull the classic maneuver where she dropped into dead-weight like a sack of flour, Essa resisted Imeeya’s diligent efforts. “But they’re gonna hurt her, ‘Meeya!” There was an emphatic insistence, almost pleading, as Essa’s enormous doe-like eyes almost glazed at the notion of leaving her dear pig to her fate. She wasn’t entirely sure what Imeeya would do to Fennel, but she harbored little faith in the mercy of the estate guards, and while teaching Fennel to behave at tea parties was difficult with her live, it would be impossible to do so if she was dead, Essa was fairly certain. Then her cherished pet would be no more, and Marijke would laud her superiority over them for ever and ever. The thought was agonizing for the four year old, on multiple fronts.
Essa didn’t MEAN to ignore her sister’s instructions, but she couldn’t just abandon Fennel now, and even as she could hear Imeeya’s voice decisively sending her back to bed, she could not do such a thing. “I can’t, ‘Meeya! What about Fennel?!” the mousy voice of the four year old called back, already darting for the corridor. The clamor of armor and bodies hitting the floor gave away the pig’s position as she blundered up guard after guard, echoes of shouting ricocheting down the stone corridors in perfect amplification thanks to such glorious resonance.
“What in the lavatories of Olympus is this shit?!?!” A deep voice boomed from the other end of the hallway, the brawny and mountainous figure of the captain of the guards emerging from his quarters, buckling his belt and sword as he did so, eyes snapping around wildly. He could make out the blur of several of his man scrambling back to their feet and taking off down the hallway, the voices of children he thought he heard as well as……..the squeals of a distressed pig?? One could practically see the veins throbbing in his forehead as he began stomping after them, footsteps like thunder, adding yet another addition to the parade of absurdity.
“‘Meeya! Go round to the kitchens!!” Essa called back over her shoulder, hoping her sister was still with her, but unable to tell amid the ruckus of guards stampeding after them. “‘Meeya!” To Essa it was simple. Divide and conqueror right. Or like they say in every story, ‘head them off at the pass,’ whatever the heck that meant.
Ahead, another tremendous crash could be heard, this time, more like furniture being toppled and possibly destroyed, and in each section of the mansion they moved through, more and more voices were raised, and more and more people bled into the column of pandemonium.
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Like small children are prone to do, Essa objected to Imeeya taking hold of her arm by twisting and coiling it around to pry loose her sister’s grip and wriggle out of it. Imeeya’s attempt to be valiant was entirely lost on her, as her sister gave her instructions, returning to bed or some such nonsense. How could she think of just going back to bed? With Fennel in danger?
Pulling and yanking and even going so far as to pull the classic maneuver where she dropped into dead-weight like a sack of flour, Essa resisted Imeeya’s diligent efforts. “But they’re gonna hurt her, ‘Meeya!” There was an emphatic insistence, almost pleading, as Essa’s enormous doe-like eyes almost glazed at the notion of leaving her dear pig to her fate. She wasn’t entirely sure what Imeeya would do to Fennel, but she harbored little faith in the mercy of the estate guards, and while teaching Fennel to behave at tea parties was difficult with her live, it would be impossible to do so if she was dead, Essa was fairly certain. Then her cherished pet would be no more, and Marijke would laud her superiority over them for ever and ever. The thought was agonizing for the four year old, on multiple fronts.
Essa didn’t MEAN to ignore her sister’s instructions, but she couldn’t just abandon Fennel now, and even as she could hear Imeeya’s voice decisively sending her back to bed, she could not do such a thing. “I can’t, ‘Meeya! What about Fennel?!” the mousy voice of the four year old called back, already darting for the corridor. The clamor of armor and bodies hitting the floor gave away the pig’s position as she blundered up guard after guard, echoes of shouting ricocheting down the stone corridors in perfect amplification thanks to such glorious resonance.
“What in the lavatories of Olympus is this shit?!?!” A deep voice boomed from the other end of the hallway, the brawny and mountainous figure of the captain of the guards emerging from his quarters, buckling his belt and sword as he did so, eyes snapping around wildly. He could make out the blur of several of his man scrambling back to their feet and taking off down the hallway, the voices of children he thought he heard as well as……..the squeals of a distressed pig?? One could practically see the veins throbbing in his forehead as he began stomping after them, footsteps like thunder, adding yet another addition to the parade of absurdity.
“‘Meeya! Go round to the kitchens!!” Essa called back over her shoulder, hoping her sister was still with her, but unable to tell amid the ruckus of guards stampeding after them. “‘Meeya!” To Essa it was simple. Divide and conqueror right. Or like they say in every story, ‘head them off at the pass,’ whatever the heck that meant.
Ahead, another tremendous crash could be heard, this time, more like furniture being toppled and possibly destroyed, and in each section of the mansion they moved through, more and more voices were raised, and more and more people bled into the column of pandemonium.
Like small children are prone to do, Essa objected to Imeeya taking hold of her arm by twisting and coiling it around to pry loose her sister’s grip and wriggle out of it. Imeeya’s attempt to be valiant was entirely lost on her, as her sister gave her instructions, returning to bed or some such nonsense. How could she think of just going back to bed? With Fennel in danger?
Pulling and yanking and even going so far as to pull the classic maneuver where she dropped into dead-weight like a sack of flour, Essa resisted Imeeya’s diligent efforts. “But they’re gonna hurt her, ‘Meeya!” There was an emphatic insistence, almost pleading, as Essa’s enormous doe-like eyes almost glazed at the notion of leaving her dear pig to her fate. She wasn’t entirely sure what Imeeya would do to Fennel, but she harbored little faith in the mercy of the estate guards, and while teaching Fennel to behave at tea parties was difficult with her live, it would be impossible to do so if she was dead, Essa was fairly certain. Then her cherished pet would be no more, and Marijke would laud her superiority over them for ever and ever. The thought was agonizing for the four year old, on multiple fronts.
Essa didn’t MEAN to ignore her sister’s instructions, but she couldn’t just abandon Fennel now, and even as she could hear Imeeya’s voice decisively sending her back to bed, she could not do such a thing. “I can’t, ‘Meeya! What about Fennel?!” the mousy voice of the four year old called back, already darting for the corridor. The clamor of armor and bodies hitting the floor gave away the pig’s position as she blundered up guard after guard, echoes of shouting ricocheting down the stone corridors in perfect amplification thanks to such glorious resonance.
“What in the lavatories of Olympus is this shit?!?!” A deep voice boomed from the other end of the hallway, the brawny and mountainous figure of the captain of the guards emerging from his quarters, buckling his belt and sword as he did so, eyes snapping around wildly. He could make out the blur of several of his man scrambling back to their feet and taking off down the hallway, the voices of children he thought he heard as well as……..the squeals of a distressed pig?? One could practically see the veins throbbing in his forehead as he began stomping after them, footsteps like thunder, adding yet another addition to the parade of absurdity.
“‘Meeya! Go round to the kitchens!!” Essa called back over her shoulder, hoping her sister was still with her, but unable to tell amid the ruckus of guards stampeding after them. “‘Meeya!” To Essa it was simple. Divide and conqueror right. Or like they say in every story, ‘head them off at the pass,’ whatever the heck that meant.
Ahead, another tremendous crash could be heard, this time, more like furniture being toppled and possibly destroyed, and in each section of the mansion they moved through, more and more voices were raised, and more and more people bled into the column of pandemonium.
While she was not necessarily the sort of girl who would turn about and claim some kind of understanding that might say, she knew what not to say in any given situation, the truth was that she not interested in curbing her tongue either “I don’t give a fig about Fennel! This is more serious than some pig prize or whatever…” right now, she was frustrated, tired, angry and sore, all of which was removing any chance at real civility when it came to her managing to temper anything that she wanted to say right now. She was at the end of her patience.
When she had a chance to look back, Imeeya was sure that there would have been some point when it could have all gone very differently. Sadly, that hadn’t been the option that she had taken or not taken or the choice made or unmade, Imeeya sincerely wished that more sleep had been involved, along with less in the way of pigs, little sisters, as well as falling and breaking items.
In fact, just the whole night. The entire hour or so could have been happily omitted from her life, of course, now she was also starting to realize that she was not nearly as prepared or ready for any of this, even if she wouldn’t even go so far as admitting anything like that. Even now, Imeeya had her pride, along with the increasingly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she started to run through how bad this was going to end up getting once matters were brought to their mother or adults in general. Imeeya was fairly sure she would come out worse, whatever else happened, she would be the one that was blamed for what had ultimately happened and yet, she was almost glad about that. Almost.
Mostly, she just really wished that she had some way of being able to figure out a plan that wouldn’t end up with her being punished. That was the option she’d really like. It wasn’t going to happen but she figured that as far as dreams went it wasn’t the worst one and she really wished that this was one she was having right now “Intruder! Help!!!!!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. It wasn’t dignified or respectful and it was definitely nothing like the kind of lady that her mother had taught her to become, well, mostly her governess but it counted as it was her mother’s influence.
While it might not count to rely on this as a successful distraction it was a better idea than running, which just made you look guilty.
As Imeeya had learned before or had she been told about it? She knew that someone had imparted the information but a foggy head was not helping matters in terms of ordering her thoughts “Essaaaa” she called the name slightly quieter, hoping it would make her sister pause and realize the position they were in, which was going to call for some fast-talking, which was not a great place to be in.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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While she was not necessarily the sort of girl who would turn about and claim some kind of understanding that might say, she knew what not to say in any given situation, the truth was that she not interested in curbing her tongue either “I don’t give a fig about Fennel! This is more serious than some pig prize or whatever…” right now, she was frustrated, tired, angry and sore, all of which was removing any chance at real civility when it came to her managing to temper anything that she wanted to say right now. She was at the end of her patience.
When she had a chance to look back, Imeeya was sure that there would have been some point when it could have all gone very differently. Sadly, that hadn’t been the option that she had taken or not taken or the choice made or unmade, Imeeya sincerely wished that more sleep had been involved, along with less in the way of pigs, little sisters, as well as falling and breaking items.
In fact, just the whole night. The entire hour or so could have been happily omitted from her life, of course, now she was also starting to realize that she was not nearly as prepared or ready for any of this, even if she wouldn’t even go so far as admitting anything like that. Even now, Imeeya had her pride, along with the increasingly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she started to run through how bad this was going to end up getting once matters were brought to their mother or adults in general. Imeeya was fairly sure she would come out worse, whatever else happened, she would be the one that was blamed for what had ultimately happened and yet, she was almost glad about that. Almost.
Mostly, she just really wished that she had some way of being able to figure out a plan that wouldn’t end up with her being punished. That was the option she’d really like. It wasn’t going to happen but she figured that as far as dreams went it wasn’t the worst one and she really wished that this was one she was having right now “Intruder! Help!!!!!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. It wasn’t dignified or respectful and it was definitely nothing like the kind of lady that her mother had taught her to become, well, mostly her governess but it counted as it was her mother’s influence.
While it might not count to rely on this as a successful distraction it was a better idea than running, which just made you look guilty.
As Imeeya had learned before or had she been told about it? She knew that someone had imparted the information but a foggy head was not helping matters in terms of ordering her thoughts “Essaaaa” she called the name slightly quieter, hoping it would make her sister pause and realize the position they were in, which was going to call for some fast-talking, which was not a great place to be in.
While she was not necessarily the sort of girl who would turn about and claim some kind of understanding that might say, she knew what not to say in any given situation, the truth was that she not interested in curbing her tongue either “I don’t give a fig about Fennel! This is more serious than some pig prize or whatever…” right now, she was frustrated, tired, angry and sore, all of which was removing any chance at real civility when it came to her managing to temper anything that she wanted to say right now. She was at the end of her patience.
When she had a chance to look back, Imeeya was sure that there would have been some point when it could have all gone very differently. Sadly, that hadn’t been the option that she had taken or not taken or the choice made or unmade, Imeeya sincerely wished that more sleep had been involved, along with less in the way of pigs, little sisters, as well as falling and breaking items.
In fact, just the whole night. The entire hour or so could have been happily omitted from her life, of course, now she was also starting to realize that she was not nearly as prepared or ready for any of this, even if she wouldn’t even go so far as admitting anything like that. Even now, Imeeya had her pride, along with the increasingly sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she started to run through how bad this was going to end up getting once matters were brought to their mother or adults in general. Imeeya was fairly sure she would come out worse, whatever else happened, she would be the one that was blamed for what had ultimately happened and yet, she was almost glad about that. Almost.
Mostly, she just really wished that she had some way of being able to figure out a plan that wouldn’t end up with her being punished. That was the option she’d really like. It wasn’t going to happen but she figured that as far as dreams went it wasn’t the worst one and she really wished that this was one she was having right now “Intruder! Help!!!!!!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. It wasn’t dignified or respectful and it was definitely nothing like the kind of lady that her mother had taught her to become, well, mostly her governess but it counted as it was her mother’s influence.
While it might not count to rely on this as a successful distraction it was a better idea than running, which just made you look guilty.
As Imeeya had learned before or had she been told about it? She knew that someone had imparted the information but a foggy head was not helping matters in terms of ordering her thoughts “Essaaaa” she called the name slightly quieter, hoping it would make her sister pause and realize the position they were in, which was going to call for some fast-talking, which was not a great place to be in.
‘I don’t give a fig about Fennel! This is more serious than some pig prize or whatever…’
The words were soul-crushing to four year old Essa, that Imeeya could so easily declare something of such importance to be discarded so easily. Older sisters were so insufferable sometimes to their four year old siblings. How could she not see the importance of this? What harm was there that things were a little messy right now…….maybe except that Uncle Tython’s nose was broken. That wasn’t good. Momma would want to know about that. But for now…..a pig’s life hung in the balance. “It’s important to me, ‘Meeya!” the small child shot back, her tone one of utter defiance, her little feet pattering down the immaculate corridors with their polished veneer and brightly painted statues. Behind her came the parade of pandemonium; scrambling guards, clanking armor, bellowing captains, and more of Imeeya’s voice sprinkled amid all of it.
‘Intruder! Help!!!!!!’
What was Imeeya thinking!? Intruder?! Oh no. The guards would go on the offensive, and might attack poor Fennel in her lovely chiton, and then there would be no tea party. Fear sprang up inside the small child, large brown eyes suddenly brimming over with big salty tears. “Don’t hurt her!!!” her small mousy voice screamed against the din of lawlessness playing out in the palace, desperate to keep the guards from spearing Fennel. The bedlam was peppered further still by sounds of things falling, and breaking, men’s voices yelling and the thundering of sandaled feet as the herd of armed guards tracked the deviant sow on her journey through the intricate corridors of the palace that once served as the home of the royal family.
Essa’s little legs pumped faster to catch up, easily overrun by the men, much to her absolute frustration. She could hear her sister’s voice calling and as she was running out of energy she slowed to a stop sobbing openly. “They’re gonna hurt Fennel!” she bellowed, and drawing a deep breath, she threw herself on the ground screaming at the absolute top of her little longs, kicking and circling about on the floor as young children were notoriously known to do. If anyone in the palace had managed by some miracle to sleep through the anarchy, they wouldn’t be know as the blood-curling high-pitched scream of a little girl ricocheted off the walls, down every corridor and hallway, blasting through every courtyard, terrace, parlor and bed chamber.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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‘I don’t give a fig about Fennel! This is more serious than some pig prize or whatever…’
The words were soul-crushing to four year old Essa, that Imeeya could so easily declare something of such importance to be discarded so easily. Older sisters were so insufferable sometimes to their four year old siblings. How could she not see the importance of this? What harm was there that things were a little messy right now…….maybe except that Uncle Tython’s nose was broken. That wasn’t good. Momma would want to know about that. But for now…..a pig’s life hung in the balance. “It’s important to me, ‘Meeya!” the small child shot back, her tone one of utter defiance, her little feet pattering down the immaculate corridors with their polished veneer and brightly painted statues. Behind her came the parade of pandemonium; scrambling guards, clanking armor, bellowing captains, and more of Imeeya’s voice sprinkled amid all of it.
‘Intruder! Help!!!!!!’
What was Imeeya thinking!? Intruder?! Oh no. The guards would go on the offensive, and might attack poor Fennel in her lovely chiton, and then there would be no tea party. Fear sprang up inside the small child, large brown eyes suddenly brimming over with big salty tears. “Don’t hurt her!!!” her small mousy voice screamed against the din of lawlessness playing out in the palace, desperate to keep the guards from spearing Fennel. The bedlam was peppered further still by sounds of things falling, and breaking, men’s voices yelling and the thundering of sandaled feet as the herd of armed guards tracked the deviant sow on her journey through the intricate corridors of the palace that once served as the home of the royal family.
Essa’s little legs pumped faster to catch up, easily overrun by the men, much to her absolute frustration. She could hear her sister’s voice calling and as she was running out of energy she slowed to a stop sobbing openly. “They’re gonna hurt Fennel!” she bellowed, and drawing a deep breath, she threw herself on the ground screaming at the absolute top of her little longs, kicking and circling about on the floor as young children were notoriously known to do. If anyone in the palace had managed by some miracle to sleep through the anarchy, they wouldn’t be know as the blood-curling high-pitched scream of a little girl ricocheted off the walls, down every corridor and hallway, blasting through every courtyard, terrace, parlor and bed chamber.
‘I don’t give a fig about Fennel! This is more serious than some pig prize or whatever…’
The words were soul-crushing to four year old Essa, that Imeeya could so easily declare something of such importance to be discarded so easily. Older sisters were so insufferable sometimes to their four year old siblings. How could she not see the importance of this? What harm was there that things were a little messy right now…….maybe except that Uncle Tython’s nose was broken. That wasn’t good. Momma would want to know about that. But for now…..a pig’s life hung in the balance. “It’s important to me, ‘Meeya!” the small child shot back, her tone one of utter defiance, her little feet pattering down the immaculate corridors with their polished veneer and brightly painted statues. Behind her came the parade of pandemonium; scrambling guards, clanking armor, bellowing captains, and more of Imeeya’s voice sprinkled amid all of it.
‘Intruder! Help!!!!!!’
What was Imeeya thinking!? Intruder?! Oh no. The guards would go on the offensive, and might attack poor Fennel in her lovely chiton, and then there would be no tea party. Fear sprang up inside the small child, large brown eyes suddenly brimming over with big salty tears. “Don’t hurt her!!!” her small mousy voice screamed against the din of lawlessness playing out in the palace, desperate to keep the guards from spearing Fennel. The bedlam was peppered further still by sounds of things falling, and breaking, men’s voices yelling and the thundering of sandaled feet as the herd of armed guards tracked the deviant sow on her journey through the intricate corridors of the palace that once served as the home of the royal family.
Essa’s little legs pumped faster to catch up, easily overrun by the men, much to her absolute frustration. She could hear her sister’s voice calling and as she was running out of energy she slowed to a stop sobbing openly. “They’re gonna hurt Fennel!” she bellowed, and drawing a deep breath, she threw herself on the ground screaming at the absolute top of her little longs, kicking and circling about on the floor as young children were notoriously known to do. If anyone in the palace had managed by some miracle to sleep through the anarchy, they wouldn’t be know as the blood-curling high-pitched scream of a little girl ricocheted off the walls, down every corridor and hallway, blasting through every courtyard, terrace, parlor and bed chamber.
The gods hated her. That or she had somehow been cursed, and the curse was in the shape of her four-year-old sister who was apparently possessed with the solitary mission to drive Imeeya into madness. Which she refused to allow to happen “As if it were that simple” she was starting to grasp that her will alone might not be enough to actually either salvage this mess or prevent herself from going insane as a result.
Which made her question what her mother might have done as well, losing a husband, well, not lost. Imeeya corrected herself as her mind ricocheted about the place, a mile a minute, rather like her heartbeat at the moment. She had done everything that had crossed his mind to make some difference, nothing was going to fix this mess, or their uncle’s nose, which was going to be painful. One way or another, it was going to involve pain and Imeeya could already feel the sharp sting against her person as a result of the accident of being born first. She was older, and so should know better. It didn’t work like that, Imeeya knew it. But that hadn’t ever prevented a punishment from coming her way, no matter how hard she tried.
It was going to be interesting, in the sense of watching how their mother handled this, with the screaming child, the screeching pig and the fact that the servants and guards were now more or less panicking at the idea of an intruder… yes, this was about when the manure had hit the barn.
Imeeaya would love to be somewhere else, but she was both a child and already not well-rested. Besides, the guards were adults and soon managed to catch up with her “Where is Essa? My sister! Where is she?” if she couldn’t avoid the punishment, perhaps there might be a way to mitigate it for her sister. Imeeya supposed it was selfless as far as a thought went but she didn’t have much hope it would work.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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The gods hated her. That or she had somehow been cursed, and the curse was in the shape of her four-year-old sister who was apparently possessed with the solitary mission to drive Imeeya into madness. Which she refused to allow to happen “As if it were that simple” she was starting to grasp that her will alone might not be enough to actually either salvage this mess or prevent herself from going insane as a result.
Which made her question what her mother might have done as well, losing a husband, well, not lost. Imeeya corrected herself as her mind ricocheted about the place, a mile a minute, rather like her heartbeat at the moment. She had done everything that had crossed his mind to make some difference, nothing was going to fix this mess, or their uncle’s nose, which was going to be painful. One way or another, it was going to involve pain and Imeeya could already feel the sharp sting against her person as a result of the accident of being born first. She was older, and so should know better. It didn’t work like that, Imeeya knew it. But that hadn’t ever prevented a punishment from coming her way, no matter how hard she tried.
It was going to be interesting, in the sense of watching how their mother handled this, with the screaming child, the screeching pig and the fact that the servants and guards were now more or less panicking at the idea of an intruder… yes, this was about when the manure had hit the barn.
Imeeaya would love to be somewhere else, but she was both a child and already not well-rested. Besides, the guards were adults and soon managed to catch up with her “Where is Essa? My sister! Where is she?” if she couldn’t avoid the punishment, perhaps there might be a way to mitigate it for her sister. Imeeya supposed it was selfless as far as a thought went but she didn’t have much hope it would work.
The gods hated her. That or she had somehow been cursed, and the curse was in the shape of her four-year-old sister who was apparently possessed with the solitary mission to drive Imeeya into madness. Which she refused to allow to happen “As if it were that simple” she was starting to grasp that her will alone might not be enough to actually either salvage this mess or prevent herself from going insane as a result.
Which made her question what her mother might have done as well, losing a husband, well, not lost. Imeeya corrected herself as her mind ricocheted about the place, a mile a minute, rather like her heartbeat at the moment. She had done everything that had crossed his mind to make some difference, nothing was going to fix this mess, or their uncle’s nose, which was going to be painful. One way or another, it was going to involve pain and Imeeya could already feel the sharp sting against her person as a result of the accident of being born first. She was older, and so should know better. It didn’t work like that, Imeeya knew it. But that hadn’t ever prevented a punishment from coming her way, no matter how hard she tried.
It was going to be interesting, in the sense of watching how their mother handled this, with the screaming child, the screeching pig and the fact that the servants and guards were now more or less panicking at the idea of an intruder… yes, this was about when the manure had hit the barn.
Imeeaya would love to be somewhere else, but she was both a child and already not well-rested. Besides, the guards were adults and soon managed to catch up with her “Where is Essa? My sister! Where is she?” if she couldn’t avoid the punishment, perhaps there might be a way to mitigate it for her sister. Imeeya supposed it was selfless as far as a thought went but she didn’t have much hope it would work.