✯ — female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.

Forever was a long time.

To a child, a long time could easily be a minute.  Sometimes a few minutes of waiting was excruciating torture.  A few minutes of nothing, of boredom, felt like the end of the world.  It kept Keona moving.  Her mind was constantly on the run, ready to move, ready to go, and if her body did not keep up, she felt like screaming sometimes.  It kept her fidgety.  It kept her from simply sitting still and relaxing because sitting still and relaxing was boring.  So she kept moving; running, climbing, poking; exploring, playing.

Sometimes, she wasted all her energy. The tiny Striker only had so much endurance to run on.  She'd plop down on the sun-warmed sand and roll around restlessly.  Too quiet, too distant to seek out company on her own most of the time.  Too overactive to enjoy a moment of rest.

But a moment was all it was.

Keona was coming to understand she was not typical.  She already understood she was different from her inability to see, but this matter of difference came from the blood running in her viens.  She was of the Faerie folk.  The kitten had been aware of this since near the beginning truthfully, she just did not pay the matter much mind.  It took her quite some time to piece together that others, whom she had met closer to her 'age', had grown up far faster than her.  While she should've been somewhere around five or six moons, she only seemed around three.  Not to mention her mind seemed more on track with that physical age, rather than that of her birth.  All the other children she'd come across here, no matter how young they'd be when she'd first encountered them, were growing month per month.

It did not usually bother her.  She had not put much thought into the fact that, as a Fae, she was not typical.  She was more... 'Supernatural', she supposed.  Most importantly, she had not stopped to think about how, as a Fae, forever, was exactly what she was looking at.

No Fae died of old age.  That old divine blood in their viens - of fallen angels, according to her family lore - kept them youthful and living, while everything else withered away.  Perhaps one day, a moment, to her, would be more like moons when looking back.

For the time being, the child pouted beneath the shelter of a palm tree.  It was only lightly drizzling, but Keona had did her running around for the day and she was thoroughly soaked through.  Not that she looked terribly bothered.  Another moment perhaps, and she'd start shivering.  Another moment, and she might just start complaining.  It was boring beneath this palm tree.

But it was just a moment.

She had a forever to go.

code by spacexual