08-15-2018, 04:49 AM
[align=center][div style="width:400px; font-size:8pt;line-height:1.1;color:#000;font-family:arial;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;letter-spacing:0px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Was a person truly the memory they held, fragments of a whole drawn together into coherent scenes, each bound by a thin seam so easy to break. Or was it the experience derived from each moment of life, the lasting moment after when the memory has begun to fade yet each emotion is there, a brand upon heart and soul.
No, there was more complexities behind the moulding of an individual, so crude and basic within those first days when the mind is soft and malleable, clutching at any stimuli offered only to cast it aside for the next, ever seeking and learning, given no boundaries. With age comes wisdom, was not such a saying common upon the tongue of many, speaking of both memory and experience, bound together for it is what came to shape what one became, a fickle thing a mind, so easily changed when presented something new. To lose it all, wipe away each fragment of memory and to be given something new, a face one does not recognise in the mirror, a name the tongue is clumsy in pronouncing yet they are yours, surely they are yours.
What becomes of a person when the very core of what shaped them, lead them to become the person they are upon that day was discarded, cast aside with nothing to replace it?
Aita had come to struggle with such herself, found her own identity proved little more than a puddle left muddied within the past weeks, ever changing as she sought a place, put upon herself pressure to fit within holes she was never made for. Was she truly fit to be apart of the nerco mambas, learning to heal both body and mind while her mind was occupied in ways to destroy or kill in spare moments, each poison written upon scrap well hidden from prying eyes. Was she meant to heal others, to hold the title of sage when her paws shook when made to be around another who had come to harm, felt the chill of illness and held little idea of how to help. And what of her thoughts, turning dark as the want to learn to fight grew within her, nothing so simple as self defence, no she wanted to kill and maim, to destroy the one who had dared lay claw upon her family.
A sigh broke through her lips, ears flattening against the curve of her head. There was nothing good about lingering upon such thoughts and doubts, letting them plague a mind too young for such troubles, but they were always there, floating beneath the surface of her thoughts. Carefully she stowed the herbs she had been preparing into an empty tin, the lid closing with a soft snap, messy writing upon the top spelling out the contents. Amongst is brethren the tin was pushed, a jumble of them left for later organisation for the sage had grown weary of the work, leaving it for another time. She had grown to enjoy the mundane tasks though now they weighed heavy, of little significance within the grand scheme of the work she was meant to do, all too young for this, to be apart of this team.
Forcing herself to stand it took only a short time for her to decide to wander the border, escape any who might seek her out with pesky questions, the looks of pity upon their faces too much. It had grown tiresome handing out basic herbs, remedies for colds and acting as little more than a walking stockpile, but her pride proved too difficult to swallow. This work gave her purpose where nothing else had and so she would tough it out for the moment, give it some more time before deciding for sure.
There seem to be none about, the darkness of the night driving all but those plagued with insomnia and harbouring nocturnal habits, or at the least Aita thought so. Wandering close to the stone gate the light breeze brought with it a voice, familiar for she had worked with the other for a short time now, each who held the position of sage beside her set within her memory though she didn't care to consider them friends just yet. The gentle tone in which Temulin spoke drew her closer, wondering exactly what it was had driven the borzoi out on such a night. “Huh,” the sound escaped her before thought could be formulated, dark eyes blinking a few times to be sure it was truly a figure the other medic stood before, seemingly to cower, clutching her head as though it pained her.
She seemed to meld into the night, the pitch tone of her fur merging well with the darkness about her, yet she seemed darker, a living patch of shadow amongst the muted shade. Careful was each step the child took, placed upon the ground with thought for she had no desire to startle either, looking upon the stranger, seeking wounds. There was no tang of copper in the air and Temulin had made no move to assist so there surely was nothing wrong with her bodily, but such was not to speak of her mind. So easily did a mind break beneath pressure, the stress building within until one simply cracked, forced to release that pressure somehow. It seemed this lioness expressed it in a more quiet way than some.
Halting by the other sage Aita looked upon the stranger with a curious gaze, unsure on whether she should offer her own words.
No, there was more complexities behind the moulding of an individual, so crude and basic within those first days when the mind is soft and malleable, clutching at any stimuli offered only to cast it aside for the next, ever seeking and learning, given no boundaries. With age comes wisdom, was not such a saying common upon the tongue of many, speaking of both memory and experience, bound together for it is what came to shape what one became, a fickle thing a mind, so easily changed when presented something new. To lose it all, wipe away each fragment of memory and to be given something new, a face one does not recognise in the mirror, a name the tongue is clumsy in pronouncing yet they are yours, surely they are yours.
What becomes of a person when the very core of what shaped them, lead them to become the person they are upon that day was discarded, cast aside with nothing to replace it?
Aita had come to struggle with such herself, found her own identity proved little more than a puddle left muddied within the past weeks, ever changing as she sought a place, put upon herself pressure to fit within holes she was never made for. Was she truly fit to be apart of the nerco mambas, learning to heal both body and mind while her mind was occupied in ways to destroy or kill in spare moments, each poison written upon scrap well hidden from prying eyes. Was she meant to heal others, to hold the title of sage when her paws shook when made to be around another who had come to harm, felt the chill of illness and held little idea of how to help. And what of her thoughts, turning dark as the want to learn to fight grew within her, nothing so simple as self defence, no she wanted to kill and maim, to destroy the one who had dared lay claw upon her family.
A sigh broke through her lips, ears flattening against the curve of her head. There was nothing good about lingering upon such thoughts and doubts, letting them plague a mind too young for such troubles, but they were always there, floating beneath the surface of her thoughts. Carefully she stowed the herbs she had been preparing into an empty tin, the lid closing with a soft snap, messy writing upon the top spelling out the contents. Amongst is brethren the tin was pushed, a jumble of them left for later organisation for the sage had grown weary of the work, leaving it for another time. She had grown to enjoy the mundane tasks though now they weighed heavy, of little significance within the grand scheme of the work she was meant to do, all too young for this, to be apart of this team.
Forcing herself to stand it took only a short time for her to decide to wander the border, escape any who might seek her out with pesky questions, the looks of pity upon their faces too much. It had grown tiresome handing out basic herbs, remedies for colds and acting as little more than a walking stockpile, but her pride proved too difficult to swallow. This work gave her purpose where nothing else had and so she would tough it out for the moment, give it some more time before deciding for sure.
There seem to be none about, the darkness of the night driving all but those plagued with insomnia and harbouring nocturnal habits, or at the least Aita thought so. Wandering close to the stone gate the light breeze brought with it a voice, familiar for she had worked with the other for a short time now, each who held the position of sage beside her set within her memory though she didn't care to consider them friends just yet. The gentle tone in which Temulin spoke drew her closer, wondering exactly what it was had driven the borzoi out on such a night. “Huh,” the sound escaped her before thought could be formulated, dark eyes blinking a few times to be sure it was truly a figure the other medic stood before, seemingly to cower, clutching her head as though it pained her.
She seemed to meld into the night, the pitch tone of her fur merging well with the darkness about her, yet she seemed darker, a living patch of shadow amongst the muted shade. Careful was each step the child took, placed upon the ground with thought for she had no desire to startle either, looking upon the stranger, seeking wounds. There was no tang of copper in the air and Temulin had made no move to assist so there surely was nothing wrong with her bodily, but such was not to speak of her mind. So easily did a mind break beneath pressure, the stress building within until one simply cracked, forced to release that pressure somehow. It seemed this lioness expressed it in a more quiet way than some.
Halting by the other sage Aita looked upon the stranger with a curious gaze, unsure on whether she should offer her own words.