06-06-2018, 12:00 AM
[align=center][div style="max-width: 600px; text-align: justify; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10pt;"][color=black]Six months. Six months since she last saw the faces of her family, since she was held in their loving embrace. Six months since that fateful day she was swept away into a large, unfamiliar world. It does not feel like it has been this long, but it has. And the homesickness gets worse every. single. day. It's kind of funny, in a sad, twisted way. The things which she craves the most are the things she barely paid attention to when she had them. Things like the weight of her siblings as they pressed together for warmth during the winter months. Or how beautiful her mother looked in the light of the early morning sun as she hummed to herself during her chores. Mel took it all for granted.
And now, just as she begins to settle into Snowbound, the humans arrive just in time to ruin it all. How cruel of them to poison Snowbound's lands and encroach upon their territory as soon as Melantha finds herself letting go of her old home and embracing the new one. If there was any hope of the young female ever forgiving the humans for all their past transgressions against her, it's lost now. Her sadness over losing her beloved family has transformed into a fierce protectiveness over Snowbound and her people. Melantha doesn't know everyone, and she certainly does not trust everyone, but there is no shaking the sense of duty which has overtaken her.
Melantha thinks about this as she packs up her meager belongings. Nothing extravagant. A couple of gently used books, all fantasy and all filled from cover to cover with delicious romance; a sketch she commissioned from a telepath of her family members, just to keep the memory of their features from fading altogether; and her collection of small trophies from all her hunting successes. Pallid olive eyes gaze upon her possessions with a sort of...detachment. Is this her legacy? All that she has to her name? It saddens her that her den is lacking in the decorations and knickknacks of someone who is well-loved. Someone whose life is filled with friends and family and accomplishments worth remembering. A dull ache blossoms within her jaws, making her aware of how forcefully she grits her teeth. Time to get out of here.
Everything is packed into a modified version of a saddlebag which is fastened about her torso. It makes her look like a pack horse but it does preserve her mobility. Since very little effort was required to gather her things, Melantha turns her attention to the masses of people partaking in the same ritual. Perhaps someone requires her assistance. "Does anyone need help packing their belongings? It's best not to dally too long." The faster they leave, the better. It's safer that way.
And now, just as she begins to settle into Snowbound, the humans arrive just in time to ruin it all. How cruel of them to poison Snowbound's lands and encroach upon their territory as soon as Melantha finds herself letting go of her old home and embracing the new one. If there was any hope of the young female ever forgiving the humans for all their past transgressions against her, it's lost now. Her sadness over losing her beloved family has transformed into a fierce protectiveness over Snowbound and her people. Melantha doesn't know everyone, and she certainly does not trust everyone, but there is no shaking the sense of duty which has overtaken her.
Melantha thinks about this as she packs up her meager belongings. Nothing extravagant. A couple of gently used books, all fantasy and all filled from cover to cover with delicious romance; a sketch she commissioned from a telepath of her family members, just to keep the memory of their features from fading altogether; and her collection of small trophies from all her hunting successes. Pallid olive eyes gaze upon her possessions with a sort of...detachment. Is this her legacy? All that she has to her name? It saddens her that her den is lacking in the decorations and knickknacks of someone who is well-loved. Someone whose life is filled with friends and family and accomplishments worth remembering. A dull ache blossoms within her jaws, making her aware of how forcefully she grits her teeth. Time to get out of here.
Everything is packed into a modified version of a saddlebag which is fastened about her torso. It makes her look like a pack horse but it does preserve her mobility. Since very little effort was required to gather her things, Melantha turns her attention to the masses of people partaking in the same ritual. Perhaps someone requires her assistance. "Does anyone need help packing their belongings? It's best not to dally too long." The faster they leave, the better. It's safer that way.