08-11-2018, 07:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-11-2018, 07:27 PM by NUI HARIME.)
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Soldiers were organized. Disciplined. Controlled and tamed to follow orders akin to a docile horse. Broken and domesticated by the bit and bridle.
Nui was nothing like a soldier.
She was farthest from it; a free spirit. Untamed, like a feather going where ever the breeze ran. Sometimes soldiers killed others. And like that, it was where the similarities stopped.
She has never known war or order or control or the brittle, dictative voice of a commander.
Ragyo had been her commander. But she was also a mother. And a flippant one at that.
Perhaps that's where everything had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Despite it all, Nui did not dwell on it. She did not think of war and death or organized soldiers or legacy or following in anyone's footsteps. She was never meant to inherit anything. She was naught but a hollow child. Fake fake fake. Spun from the same fiber that people wore over their skin for decoration and shrouded with foreign origin. Only made to serve the one and only.
The stranger at the border was a peculiar one. All covered in sable scales and built like he was made to survive every second of a skirmish. Perhaps he was.
But because he was there, Nui was obligated to greet him anyways. The felidae stopped beside Dmitri-- now Dagon, was it. The artiste cast him a sideways glance, pondering to no end of the different personas-- the different natueres that lived within that body and how they came to be. Curiosity was inevitable for Nui, all consuming inquisition. And now with Dagon here, it was nagging like a pest that might worm into it's host.
She had a job to do. A person to meet. Questions for later.
"I'm Nui Harime. What is your name, dear stranger?"
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SNOWBOUND
FEMALE
POLARHEART
FEMALE
POLARHEART
[div style="width: 360px; font-family: verdana; color: #FB9B85; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I AM IN CONTROL!
Soldiers were organized. Disciplined. Controlled and tamed to follow orders akin to a docile horse. Broken and domesticated by the bit and bridle.
Nui was nothing like a soldier.
She was farthest from it; a free spirit. Untamed, like a feather going where ever the breeze ran. Sometimes soldiers killed others. And like that, it was where the similarities stopped.
She has never known war or order or control or the brittle, dictative voice of a commander.
Ragyo had been her commander. But she was also a mother. And a flippant one at that.
Perhaps that's where everything had gone terribly, terribly wrong.
Despite it all, Nui did not dwell on it. She did not think of war and death or organized soldiers or legacy or following in anyone's footsteps. She was never meant to inherit anything. She was naught but a hollow child. Fake fake fake. Spun from the same fiber that people wore over their skin for decoration and shrouded with foreign origin. Only made to serve the one and only.
The stranger at the border was a peculiar one. All covered in sable scales and built like he was made to survive every second of a skirmish. Perhaps he was.
But because he was there, Nui was obligated to greet him anyways. The felidae stopped beside Dmitri-- now Dagon, was it. The artiste cast him a sideways glance, pondering to no end of the different personas-- the different natueres that lived within that body and how they came to be. Curiosity was inevitable for Nui, all consuming inquisition. And now with Dagon here, it was nagging like a pest that might worm into it's host.
She had a job to do. A person to meet. Questions for later.
"I'm Nui Harime. What is your name, dear stranger?"
© MADI