09-18-2018, 11:02 PM
The girl that gave her the massage waited behind the counter, watching them with wide-eyes. Valeriya bared her teeth in a smile before turning to Armande. “She asked about my scars,” Vale said almost gleefully. “So I told her,” she added. The woman paled. She told Armande the tale of her own Awakening and the marks it left upon her physical body. Illarion’s was worse, really. His face smelled like ash for weeks.
They gave her different clothes to wear as well. She wore black leggings and a black shirt with some sort of slashes across the belly and sleeves that were there on purpose. Her hair fizzed with dampness as it dried in wild wisps. They had her bathe in an enormous tub that bubbled with colors so hot that it scalded her skin pink at first. Soon, however, scents curled with the steam and Valeriya sank lazily upon a pillow.
Her stomach rumbled, now. They tried to feed her strange foods that she absolutely refused to swallow. When they asked what foods she liked best, her answer turned their stomachs.
People everywhere. So many people filled her sights. The street brimmed with pedestrians, bikes, and the thrumming of engines. So many new words to master. When she pointed out one contraption and asked for its word, she tested the syllables carefully on her tongue. Motorcycle.
The buildings were stone structures and covered with ornate facings. Lights, signs, and bustling activity filled her with the need to roam. Valeriya was content to let the wind push her in its direction, but gabled peaks and balconies caught her attention. If only for its strangeness in the surroundings.
“What’s that?” She pointed it out, intrigued.
They gave her different clothes to wear as well. She wore black leggings and a black shirt with some sort of slashes across the belly and sleeves that were there on purpose. Her hair fizzed with dampness as it dried in wild wisps. They had her bathe in an enormous tub that bubbled with colors so hot that it scalded her skin pink at first. Soon, however, scents curled with the steam and Valeriya sank lazily upon a pillow.
Her stomach rumbled, now. They tried to feed her strange foods that she absolutely refused to swallow. When they asked what foods she liked best, her answer turned their stomachs.
People everywhere. So many people filled her sights. The street brimmed with pedestrians, bikes, and the thrumming of engines. So many new words to master. When she pointed out one contraption and asked for its word, she tested the syllables carefully on her tongue. Motorcycle.
The buildings were stone structures and covered with ornate facings. Lights, signs, and bustling activity filled her with the need to roam. Valeriya was content to let the wind push her in its direction, but gabled peaks and balconies caught her attention. If only for its strangeness in the surroundings.
“What’s that?” She pointed it out, intrigued.
The Eye of the Khylsty