ever since the child was born, it was made clear that she was highly interested in stories, of any kind. the tales her fathers would tell her or siblings create would always catch her attention and hold it easily, becoming engrossed in any sort of journey introduced to her. she tried to learn to read as quickly as she could, pointing to words and asking to sound them out so she could repeat, spelling out things and flipping through picture books. she wants to write her stories. she wants to let the world see her adventures, too. because, if she could pretend that they were truthful, then she could write them off as fact as well. the kitten was sure the world would be impressed by her stories, even if ari thinks they are dumb.

while she is terrified of the shores that surround their island, she does find inspiration from them. the beach is much lighter and warmer than the jungle and she finds it easier to draw upon the sand, laying her art supplies on a towel and wrapping her blanket around her as she grabs a crayon. with this, the little girl writes, sloppily, "the knite knight" and begins to doodle underneath it - it a drawing of her family.

Keona loved a different sort of story: she loved music. She loved to listen with rapt attention to old songs her father sang.  There'd always be a song in the days on his ship.  His crew.  Many were old songs, in Gaelic not English and she knew them all.  Love songs.  Songs of war.  Songs of rebellious children.  Working songs.  She knew the songs of her mother's language too, though she rarely sang them.  She loved the music.

The tiny faerie wanted adventure.  Not old stories.  She wanted to discover strange new wonders and carve her own tale. Prove she could.  In the end of it all, she hopes she's happy but above all that she'd done something worth singing about.  Something grand or brave or impressive somehow someway.  Prove she's more than a blind girl, born into an old and proud family.  A good pirate worth mentioning.

The bay was where it all began.  The sunbaked sand was the first ground she'd ever touched.  Born on the boat of her father's crew.  The shore called her.  The steady rythmn of the waves.  The rush of a salt breeze.

There alert ears picked up conversation. The other youth of the crew.  Quietly, petite paws carried her.  Her pale seagreen hues danced from voice to voice, scent to scent.  The many siblings, she noticed.  She wondered for a moment, what a sibling would be like.  An interesting concept.  She flicked her ear, brows creasing for a brief second.  Keona decides she probably wouldn't want one. Looking at her family -- twin fathers and an uncle constantly glancing over his shoulder -- a sibling didn't seem very exciting.

Silently, the striker took a nearby seat, head tilted lightly towards the group.  Art.  Not something she could enjoy looking at, though she had tried her paws at making it once or twice.  Not a lot of satisfaction in that.

The child smiled lightly at Elijah's plea, realizing he had a companion.  Her cousin Suvi had obtained one recently herself, a michievous young raven called Fiachra.  Said bird had actually been tailing her today, though she showed no signs of awknowledging him. He was much too large a creature to rest on her back, or head, so he had to walk or fly himself.  When he realized she'd seated herself near the other children, he descended to her side with a flutter of clumsy wings.  Since he recognized Aphra, he greeted the feline with a tremendously loud CAW, making Keona flinch in surprise, before he turned his sharp eyes on the others.

The Fae knew he'd probably never seen someone draw before, so she didn't call him back when he inched a little closer, seeking a better look, curious.

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tá mé i dtiúin — ✯

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NAME: ... ¦ GENDER: ? ¦ LEVEL: 2 ¦ ♡: 1
STR: 1 ¦ DEF: 1 ¦ CON: 1 ¦ DEX: 1 ¦ INT: 1
PER: 2 ¦ CHR: 1 ¦ AGL: 1 ¦ WIL: 1 ¦ LCK: 1